


Merry & Bright 2020

by justasparkwriting



Category: Bangtan, bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Fic-mas, BTS Domestic, BTS fatherhood, Children, Christmas, Christmas Carols, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Christmas Sweaters, Christmas Tree, Consensual Sex, Dating, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Holiday, Holidays, Hope, Implied/Referenced Sex, Long-Distance Relationship, Love, Love Letters, Mistletoe, Parenthood, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 44,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasparkwriting/pseuds/justasparkwriting
Summary: 25 Christmas One-Shots inspired by Christmas songs and Christmas carols. Under 1500 words each. Lots of fluff. Some Smut. Marriage. Dating. Mistletoe Kisses. Group stories.Starring the Boys of Bangtan.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/You, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Reader, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/You, Kim Namjoon | RM & Reader, Kim Namjoon | RM/Original Female Character(s), Kim Namjoon | RM/Reader, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Reader, Kim Seokjin | Jin/You, Kim Taehyung | V/Reader, Kim Taehyung | V/You, Min Yoongi | Suga & Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga/You, Park Jimin (BTS)/Original Female Character(s), Park Jimin (BTS)/Reader, Park Jimin (BTS)/You
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	1. Merry & Bright Chapter List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Personal Fave  
> ** Fan Fave

_Dec 1: Silver & Gold* _

Min Yoongi

_Dec 2: Baby, Sugar, Honey, Darling*_

Kim Seokjin

_Dec 3: A Beacon in the Night*_

Kim Namjoon

_Dec 4: Baby, Please_

Jeon Jungkook

_Dec 5: Pretend That We’re There_

Jung Hoseok

_Dec 6: Once Bitten, Twice Shy**_

Park Jimin

_Dec 7: Ribbons & Bows_

Kim Taehyung

_Dec 8: May All Your Christmases Be White*_

Park Jimin

_Dec 9: Shawty, with You**_

Min Yoongi

_Dec 10: All I Want is You*_

Kim Namjoon

_Dec 11: If Only in My Dreams **_

Jung Hoseok

_Dec 12: All the Love and Joy_

Jeon Jungkook

_Dec 13: I Sincerely Tried*_

Kim Seokjin

_Dec 14: What’s Your Hurry?_

Kim Taehyung

_Dec 15: Bah, Humbug *_

Park Jimin

_Dec 16: Ain’t Nothing Better Than This*_

Jung Hoseok

_Dec 17: That’s Christmas To Me **_

Min Yoongi

_Dec 18: Did You Know? *_

Kim Namjoon

_Dec 19: We’re Happy Tonight_

Jeon Jungkook

_Dec 20: I Could Care Less**_

Kim Seokjin

_Dec 21: Santa Baby**_

OT7

_Dec 22: Golden Days*_

OT7

_Dec 23: I Promise*_

OT7

_Dec 24: Happy Anniversary **_

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

_Dec 25: A Newborn King*_

Kim Taehyung

**New Years**

_Anticipating_

Min Yoongi

_Glitter on the Floor*_

Kim Taehyung

_Too Early in the Game_

Kim Namjoon

_Till the Morning Light_

Jung Hoseok

_Your Midnights**_

Park Jimin

_Jackpot Question**_

Kim Seokjin

_Resolution *_

Jeon Jungkook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment your favorites!


	2. Silver & Gold MY

**Silver and Gold**

_[Inspired by Do You Hear What I Hear by Vanessa Williams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJSmwUIZ9xk) _

In a sunlit apartment, you and Yoongi slept diligently. Bodies connected only by feet that laid overlapping at the bottom of the bed, yours buried under his, his mindlessly resting on yours. The anticipation of today nearly kept you awake, the joy of your first Christmas season with your boyfriend was nothing short of thrilling, and overwhelming, and potentially disappointing. Or, as you put it, hazards of the season.

Yoongi wasn’t into Christmas like you were, and neither was Yoongi’s family. He didn’t celebrate Advent, or read devotionals preparing for the Christmas season. He didn’t listen to carols and actually believe what they said, and he didn’t buy into the rampant consumerism attached with the holiday. Yoongi was simple, modest in his celebrations and steadfast in his hatred for Santa and Elf on a Shelf.

You’d tried to warn him, tried to tell him that you and your family went big for Christmas. Not inflatables in your front yard big, not light-up-nativity-midnight-Mass big either. Traditions, family centered, everyone coming together big. Your stubbornness as a child resulted in strictly adhered to traditions, which you held _very_ close to your heart. Presents opened on Christmas Eve, cut outs decorated a few days before Christmas, French silk pie for Christmas Eve dessert, to be eaten after church, songs and albums that had to be listen to first. You told Yoongi you’d go easy on him; it’d take time for him to adjust to such rigorous traditions, lord knew your brother-in-law took years to acclimate to your family’s joys. But Yoongi, ever the goal setter, was determined to find joy in what you found bliss in, resolute to familiarize and adapt faster than anyone you’d ever dated. He was unwavering in his desire to be present and jubilant in your celebrations until he had to bid you adieu and solemnly head back to Korea, where he’d wait for you to join him for New Years. 

The escalating trill of your alarm alerted you that it was time to wake up. You rolled over, glancing at your phone to check the time, 8:25AM, December 1st and in an attempt to muffle what was sure to wake your boyfriend up, you screamed into the pillow. Your attempt at muffling the curt sound failed spectacularly, and Yoongi awoke with a start, yelling “what?” in his native tongue, fear and concern washing over his once placid features. He reached for his glasses, slipping them on and stared at you. Glancing over at him, you smiled, phone in hand.

“Do you know what today is?” You asked, excitement rippling through your vocal chords.

“Who cares what today is, are you okay?” Yoongi demanded.

“Yoongi, do you know what today is?” You asked again, eyes set on his, your framed spectacles mirroring his (a coincidence you both took as a weird sign that you were fated to be together).

“No,” He said, eyes still confused if your outburst had been about bodily harm.

“Oh my god! It’s time for Christmas!” You yelled, phone in hand, sprinting out of the bedroom and into the living room. Yoongi watched as your bare legs jiggled, carrying you swiftly to the surround system headquarters. He groggily followed, slipping a sweatshirt over his head, eyes still ripe with sleep, concern ebbing.

He stopped at the entrance to the living room, mere paces from the home you’d made in bed, to watch you. Carefully, you turned the necessary devices on, delicately adjusting the bass and amping the volume, all to ring out the opening notes. The dull synthesizer pulled the sharp quality of the opening triplet in tight, allowing for the softness of the drums, bongos maybe, to be heard hitting a two count on, two count off, in opposition of what Yoongi swore were bells. As he listened, he realized the composition was something he hadn’t heard of and was curious to know what was being played. The smooth vocals began to bring the melody out, as Vanessa Williams crooned:

_Said the night wind, to the little lamb_

_Do you see what I see_

_Way up in the sky little lamb_

_Do you see what I see_

_A star_

_A star dancing in the night_

_With a tail as big as a kite_

Yoongi watched as the smile danced across your lips, your eyes trained on your phone, no doubt texting your family, before you quickly set it down. Your eyes couldn’t help but beam with all the excitement you were feeling, utter blessedness as the song continued. You gave yourself to the music, swaying to the rhythm, slowly singing the African chants as they appeared mixed within the composition. He watched as your hips gyrated, mimicking a traditional African dance as the music swelled. He smiled to himself, watching you being moved by the music made him love you more. He couldn’t stop giggling at your unbridled joy over this carol.

_Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king  
Do you know what I know  
In your palace oh mighty king  
Do you know what I know_

_A child, a child, shivers in the cold_  
Let us bring him silver and gold  
Let us bring him silver and gold

As the horns picked up, cheers of “oh, oh, oh” came swelling through the speakers, you turned to Yoongi, your love, your partner.

“Dance with me,” You posed, hand outstretched to his. He smiled, gums and all, shaking his head repeatedly, giggling softly.

“It’s too early for dancing,” He hummed, voice low with its premature use this morning.

“Min Yoongi, _Suga_ , dance with me,” You asked again, eyes wide. “It’s almost my favorite part!”

“Ahh, fine,” He said, shaking his bangs and coming to take your hand. You pulled him close, hand in his, arm draped over his shoulder.

“This is my favorite part, you have to close your eyes though, you have to feel it,” You whispered, hand coming to rest on his heart. He nodded. He’d become accustomed to this request, and often had the same of you. Turning off your sight, allowing your hearing to become dominant, always drew out your emotional connection to the music. When he sent you samples, tagged with a ‘remember, close your eyes’, you always obliged. While you played him a song that meant something to you, you asked the same in return. With the horns swelling, the chorus’s voices growing, Yoongi closed his eyes and tried to feel what you did.

_Listen, do you see what I see?_

_Do you hear what I hear?_

_Do you know what I know?_

_Pray for peace, people everywhere!_

_Oh oh_

_Do you hear what I hear?_

Yoongi hadn’t understood why you felt anything to this song, or why you were so excited for this holiday season. He couldn’t comprehend your joy over the Christ child being born. But slow dancing with you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, your voice singing softly, Yoongi heard what you heard. He knew what you knew. When he opened his eyes, he saw what you saw.


	3. Baby, Sugar, Honey, Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right by the Christmas tree, we'll make love tonight

**Baby, Sugar, Honey, Darling**

[Inspired by Christmas Delight by The Four Tops](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdZD5E5t2oU&list=PLJt0qGhWBui0N7kdV1I_SDgP7nYm5f5s8&index=195)

Seokjin carefully adjusted the trivet to sit perfectly in the middle of the oyster Le Creuset Dutch oven, a splurge he’d purchased once you moved in. He wanted a full set, and knowing they were considered the best, couldn’t help but want them in his kitchen. He looked over the table, trying to move the tablecloth without moving the centerpiece of poinsettias and garland.

“Baby, why don’t you just wait for me to help?” You asked. He hadn’t heard your gentle steps padding down the hallway to the dining room, or noticed you silently observing, taking in the work of your husband.

“I didn’t know when you’d be down,” He said, turning to pout.

“It looks really good, smells even better,” You smiled at him, eyes crinkling.

“Thank you, do we need to get the drinks ready?” He moved around you, through the other side of the dining room to the kitchen.

“Just need to pop the champagne and put ice in the ice buckets,” You said, reaching into the fridge to grab two bottles.

“Do our friends like champagne?”

“I like champagne,” You said carefully opening the first bottle.

“Hobi doesn’t,” Seokjin said.

“We have other things, too many other things,” You said, eyes rolling at your husbands incessant need to cover all bases when it came to providing for your friends. “We have nonalcoholic options, beer, hard liquor, soda, water, sparkling water.”

“Wine, did we get wine?”

“Red and white,” You sighed.

“Okay, good,” He nodded, checking off another box on his mental to do list.

“Sugar, it’s twelve people, we have enough for twice that, alcohol for four times, it’ll be okay,” You reassured, nestling the bottles in a bed of ice.

“I just, I want it to be perfect,” Jin sighed, leaning against the marble countertop. You moved to stand between his legs, hands instinctively going to his broad shoulders.

“I know, and it will be,” You said, hands comfortably moving up and down his biceps. “It’s going to me marvelous, splendid; you’re going to be the bell of the ball.”

“I don’t want to be the bell of the ball!” Jin responded, outraged.

“Hostess with the mostest,” You said, smiling up at him.

“That’s better,” Seokjin chuckled.

“Someone’s going to have to take our picture tonight,” You gently adjusted his tie, taking in the cardigan he had tossed over his button down. “You look _good_.”

“Aye, honey you look good, _beautiful_ ,” Jin was smiling, slight blush in his cheeks. He hadn’t taken much time to take in your appearance. He loved the soft make up you’d put on, hair pulled back just slightly to show of your earrings, a gift from Seokjin on your third anniversary. They hung low, grazing your neck when you moved, a constant reminder of him.

“Thank you,” You said, leaning up to press a chaste kiss on his lips as the doorbell rang, your first guests arriving. “I’ll get the music; you get the door?”

“Alright,” Jin kissed your cheek, giving your shoulders a squeeze, and darted to welcome your friends into your home.

His voice could be heard over your music, loudly greeting everyone by name as he joked and laughed. His laugh was your favorite sound, it’s tone never wavering, always inviting you to join him. And join you did, stepping into the foyer to say hi to your friends, their spouses and girlfriends. The few BTS children immediately gravitating towards you, their favorite aunt.

Within an hour, the house was full, food was abounding, as was merriment and utter seasonal joy. The Christmas tunes never ceased, and neither did the alcohol. It was your favorite tradition, a party with the entire band, their kids, their spouses, everyone coming together to eat and drink, dance a little, sing a little, and celebrate the holidays as one. No longer were they clambering to perfect a routine for a New Year’s Eve performance or stressing over military service and chart placements. There weren’t deadlines or copious holiday special appearances, no flying to and from for late night shows or awkward interviews. They’d peaked, and as they settled into their plateau, they overwhelmingly welcomed the comfort of a family-oriented life.

Thus, the Christmas party was born. Each year a different family hosted. The men had drawn straws, after Seokjin refused to go first, despite his seniority. He’d opted for reverse order, forcing Jungkook into the position of hosting first, which he absolutely hated, and feeling bad, Namjoon had taken over. The first party had been stunning, and each year continued to grow in brilliance.

Your guests continued to eat and drink into the night, the few BTS children tucked into the guest room, sleeping soundlessly until their parents carried their weary bodies to their car seats. Seokjin milled at one end of the living room, laughing uproariously with Taehyung and Jimin. You couldn’t help but laugh as you spoke with Jungkook and his latest fling, who seemingly had never seen _While You Were Sleeping_. It was mid laugh that Seokjin’s eyes found yours, scanning up and down your body slowly, admiring the way your outfit hugged your figure. He absentmindedly licked his puckered lips, and you in return bit your bottom lip, breath inhaling slowly.

You hadn’t lied when you said he looked good. He looked better than good, sinfully good… Sexy didn’t begin to cover it. And you wanted him. Seokjin, sensing your feelings, winked before dipping into the kitchen. You gave him a minute before you followed, taking a few empty plates and cups with you.

Jin didn’t hear you walking into the kitchen, but he felt you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You whispered into his back.

“Me? Honey, have you seen the way you’re looking at me?”

“Oh, if anything I’m taking a cue from you,” You giggled, Seokjin turning in your arms.

“Mm, you’re the one dressed like that,” He smirked, admiring your cleavage.

“Hmm, and you’re the one checking me out in plain sight,” You scolded.

“You’re gorgeous, and I want you,” Seokjin dipped his head to place kiss after kiss on your neck, pulling your hips against his, grinding into you softly.

“Seokjin, we have guests,” You muttered, suppressing every moan he was attempting to elicit.

“They’ll be gone soon, and I want you to be ready,” He bit the unentangled flesh of your earlobe before lightly spanking you and walking out of the kitchen. You gnawed on the flesh of your lip, annoyed that he’d started the game without telling you, curious how he was going to hide his arousal from your guests and knowing full well he had the restraint of a Tibetan monk.

The drinks dwindled as did your guests. Kisses were placed on foreheads of tired tots as they were carried out, wishes of a happy Christmas were shared, and the pleasant balm of a well spent evening covered everyone, snugger than their winter coats.

As soon as the last guest left, Jungkook, naturally, Seokjin was taking your hand in his, guiding you towards the Christmas tree.

The white lights bounced off the gold and white ornaments, catching and splaying out across the tattered living room. Remnants of secret Santa remained, ribbons in piles, wrapping paper stacked and balled. Nat King Cole crooned in the background, and as The Christmas Song blended into a new carol, you felt Seokjin’s hands moving lower and lower on your backside.

“Happy Christmas, darling,” He said, eyes framed by his ever-growing bangs.

“Merry Christmas honey,” You replied. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his, moving slowly as he began to dominate you. Hands were no longer gentle as he unzipped your dress, coaxing it off your shoulders and letting it pool on the floor. Carefully stepping out of it, you moved to take his sweater off his broad shoulders, shoulders that had no problem holding you open, legs propped on either side. Maybe tonight he’d eat you out by the light of the tree. Or use the ribbon to tie your hands back, or maybe you’d treat him to a similar spectacle.

Slipping your tights down, Seokjin kneeled, open mouthed kisses hot and wet against your abdomen. You tried to suppress a giggle, but it was impossible, he knew you were ticklish.

“I love that sound,” He said, hooded eyes looking up at yours. Your face contracted, a pout and squinted eyes at his compliment. Seokjin laughed heartily at your face, shaking his head at how silly you were. 

“I love that sound,” You responded, proud that you’d made him laugh.

“I love you, Mrs. Kim,” He said, smile still on his plump lips.

“Mr. Kim, I love you,” You returned his smile, unable to hide any amount of joy from him.

Seokjin guided your panties down, followed by his tie, his shirt and slowly his pants. You’d never made love by the light of the Christmas tree, pine swirling with scents of arousal, an old R&B track bopping in the background, the ornaments shaking with each thrust of Seokjin’s hips. As your Christmas highs mixed with your carnal passion, you were grateful Jin was always down to be your Christmas delight.


	4. Beacon in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon walks the streets as the light dusting of snow begins to fall. December has never felt so wrong to him. There are so many factors seeping into his mind, into his body. Yoongi is out, missing every performance, every interview, every aspect of this promotional season. They’re nominated for a Grammy, the highest western honor, the only award anyone seems to care about, despite their resilience on the charts and earning the highest honors in Korea. The American press is hung up on the success of Dynamite, not mentioning the charting of other songs, the power ARMY has over them… And he’s spending Christmas without you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I rewrote this)

**Beacon in the Night**

[Inspired by Winter Song by Leslie Odom Jr ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpWsxvFMw44)

Namjoon walks the streets as the light dusting of snow begins to fall. December has never felt so wrong to him. There are so many factors seeping into his mind, into his body. Yoongi is out, missing every performance, every interview, every aspect of this promotional season. They’re nominated for a Grammy, the highest western honor, the only award anyone seems to care about, despite their resilience on the charts and earning the highest honors in Korea. The American press is hung up on the success of Dynamite, not mentioning the charting of other songs, the power ARMY has over them… And he’s spending Christmas without you. You told him it was for the best, you were never going to make it through a comeback and the winter promotional season, it didn’t matter if you loved him, which you did, you just couldn’t do it. Your heart couldn’t handle the hurt, the distance, the unavailability. He understood, if it wasn’t tour, it would be this.

Walking through the streets, bundled up, headphones in one ear, your words carrying him step after step, guiding him where he needed to be, like they always did. As he moved through the neighborhood, he hoped you’d realize the pull you had on him, the way you shouldered his burdens, the way you answered his calls, the way your eyes loved his.

The knock is soft, the front desk man not knowing you had broken up, letting Namjoon up up up until he was at your door.

“Coming!” You call, setting down your glass of wine and tucking hair behind your ears. “Joon.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry to just, drop in, I know I just,” He shakes his head, the few tears starting to fall.

“Honey,” You say, pulling him to you. He smells the same, and your heart breaks.

“I’m sorry,” He says, coming to his senses, standing straight and stepping out of your arms. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t ever say that,” You say, pulling him into your apartment and locking the door. “Go sit.”

Namjoon’s feet carry him towards your sofa, where he finds reprieve from the miles he’s just walked. He sinks down gratefully, his shoes already kicked off by the door, his coat soon being peeled off, revealing him in your favorite sweater. You join him, your glass of wine in your hand, a mug of hot tea for Joon.

“It’s hot,” You say, sitting down next to him.

“Thank you,” Namjoon nods his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently.

“Can I lay in your lap?” He asks, eyes not meeting yours. It was his favorite way to talk to you, head resting in your lap, your hand in his hair, your eyes looking down at him. He felt so close to you then, so cozy and loved.

“Yes,” You grab a pillow and a blanket, wrapping the blanket loosely over his legs. “Talk,”

“We’ve just become the second act in history to have a number one single and album debut in the same week. It’s surreal to be recognized like this, by numbers and statistics, not just tweets and the bubble of South Korea. Though, the American market is its own bubble too. I’m trying to stay optimistic, the Grammy nomination, the chart placements… All good things. There’s this aching feeling that our success is hollow.” Namjoon rattles on, you are his favorite person to talk to.

“What is the hollowness coming from? Is it from your own thoughts and feelings, or from critics, from bandmates, management?” You ask seamlessly, “Or, do you want my advice? Do you want me to just listen?”

“Both,” He says.

“If your hollowness is coming from you, then you need to examine what it is _specifically_ that is causing this feeling, you have to look at the triggers of it. If it’s coming from an external source, as opposed to internal, then what is pushing these thoughts on you? Your feelings are your own, but there can be external input that is causing your mind to respond a certain way.”

Namjoon stares at you as you speak. You’ve always understood him, even in breaking up, your words were careful, emotive and precise, he knew exactly what you were feeling from how you spoke to the way your eyes glanced over him. Lying in your lap, he’s taken aback by the amount of emotional labor he’s asking you to do. You’re no longer his girlfriend, no matter how tethered he feels to you.

“I know you, Joonie, and I know what you’re saying … With your success comes an inherent knowledge that maybe it wasn’t earned, or maybe it’s because people are finally giving you your dues. You’re finally being recognized on a global scale, and now all the questions of what that means are coming to the surface. It’s okay to question it, but don’t forget to celebrate it,” You’re absentmindedly playing with his hair, running your hands through it, twirling it as you speak, giving it a light tug. No matter how many times he died it, it always remained soft and silky.

“Fuck, you’re brilliant,” Namjoon whispers, his hand reaching for yours as rests gently on his chest. “And you’re right. It’s external factors pulling me to question internal motivations. It’s also the Christmas season… the joy, the carols, the light everywhere. If my victories are built on hollow premises, isn’t this festive joy also made up of false promises and lies? I can’t disseminate the two.”

“I’m not sure you have to,” You say, allowing him to entangle your fingers.

“Do you think Jesus separated the two, the pressure from the triumphs? Though I don’t think it was possible with men bent on murdering him. I’m feeling so lost and untethered,”

“Did you ever hear that proverb that flowers can’t grow beneath winter snow?”

“Yes,”

“But somehow, life always finds a way. Flowers still bloom in frozen pots, life springs from frozen ground. External influences don’t have to influence how you yourself feel, particularly if they’re negatively effecting you.” Your eyes are trained on his, intention in the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re my harvester of light, you know that?” Namjoon asks.

“No, I didn’t,” You shake your head softly.

“I walked miles today, and at every turn I kept coming back to you,” Namjoon whispers, a tight hold enveloping your hand.

Your eyes are no longer warm and inviting, but concerned and frustrated, “You’ve been doing a lot of press, lots of performances. I know some have been pre-taped, Joonie, are you taking care of yourself?”

“I, yes,” He says quickly.

“Don’t lie to me, Joon,” You say. “Don’t fucking lie.”

“I’m doing fine, I have a lot of down time, I’m doing okay,” He tries to reassure you, but you won’t look at him.

“If you don’t love yourself, who will?” You wonder. He knows exactly what you’re doing, what you’re asking.

“I don’t know if anyone will. No one since you,” He whispers, sitting up. “I don’t know if love is alive anymore.”

“ARMY loves you,” You suggest.

“ARMY is its own separate entity. I know they’re there; I know they support me. They showed up to our three virtual shows. They got our album and singles to place where they did… They are responsible for my life. But that’s different, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s different,” You say, nodding your head as you think about his statement. A quiet rest over both of you before you turn and catch him staring, slight smile on his lips.

“December has felt so wrong, and I just figured out why,” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” You whisper, body fully turned to face him, shoulders squared.

“You, you belong inside my arms. I’ve been missing it for months; it doesn’t feel like Christmas if-

It’s a swift movement, from him speaking to your lips on his, thighs around his, fists of wool sweater between your fingers. Namjoon’s hand is resting at the nape of your neck, holding you against him. His lips are dry and chapped, moving like they’re in slow motion, feeling every millimeter of your lips, taking in the taste of your Pinot Gris on your tongue, your breath hot in his face.

You pull away first, chest heaving in unison with his, a few tears in your eyes.

“Are you trying to tell me you want to start again?” You whisper.


	5. Baby, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COVID makes spending Christmas with Jungkook impossible.

**Baby, Please**

[Inspired by Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home) by Darlene Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vf4ZXBzbAio)

Jungkook stares out the window of his bedroom, snow falling lightly, the only sound, his breath, slowly in and out. His phone, volume on, twirling absently between his fingers. In the distance, he can hear the other members laughing and yelling, their conversation and dinner prep echoing. The Yoongi’s space is attempting to be filled with their joy, as if laughing twice as hard would make up for his absence. Jungkook knows soon he’ll have to go out, pretend to be fine with the situation, and eat dinner. He’ll play make believe for as long as he can, but somewhere between dinner and the first movie or round of whatever game his hyungs force him to pick, Jungkook’s mind will slip.

As he slips, his five hyungs will turn to the only thing that loosens him up, making his sadness bite a little bit less… Christmas Karaoke. They’ll queue the tracks, mixing in group songs with power ballads, a few hip hop and R&B tunes to balance the candy-coated sugar coma of the season, and for an hour or two, Jungkook won’t be swallowed in despair. But then, your favorite song will play, an accident, they didn’t know, and you will be the only thing on his mind. The tears will flow, mixing with whatever alcoholic beverage he’s consuming, and Jungkook will disappear into his bedroom, try not to call you, and force himself into an empty slumber.

Instead, he’s staying on his bed, watching the snow fall in increasingly larger flakes, flurries swirling and sticking softly to the ground, building upon one another to form snowbanks.

It’s in the middle of his reverie that his phone rings, your photo popping up.

“Honey,” He says softly, doe eyes staring into yours.

“Hi,” You sigh, his voice always feels like a warm embrace. It’s familiar and kind, steadfast in its ability to sooth you.

“You look beautiful,” He smiles, eyes not crinkling at the edges.

“Thanks, you look ethereal as always,” You smile, faltering as yours refuses to reach past your cheek bones.

“Ethereal?” His expression is quizzical.

“Yeah, I feel like it typically describes Jimin, but that hazy snow filter you’ve got going is just making you look so… heavenly,” You shrug.

“You’re making me blush,” Jungkook’s smile moves closer to his wide eyes, nearly reaching as his cheeks turn a soft shade of crimson.

“What are you up to?” You ask.

“Sitting, feeling pathetic,” He says, the hint of a smile disappearing completely. You watch as his expression completely falls.

“Kook,” You say, sympathetic to his pain.

“I’m trying not to be so, sad, but it’s too hard,” He runs a hand through his hair, tussling the locks to one side, his undercut on full display.

“I’m trying too, it just fucking sucks,” You say, instinctively adjusting your ponytail.

“We had a plan, you know? We had a plan, we had arrangements, we had so much fun last year, and I was just so excited to share this Christmas with you, here,” His words are tumbling out of him, succinctly and organized.

“I was looking forward to it... I bought a new hat,” You offer.

“Oh?” He asks, happy for any sliver of joy.

“Yeah, let me get it,” You stood up quickly, showing Jungkook your mid drift and legging clad legs as you moved through your bedroom to find your new beanie.

“Aye, what are you wearing?” He asks, staring at the space your face was just in.

“What? It’s a long sleeve cropped athletic shirt thing,” You answer, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“You look so sexy,” He says, a smirk on his lips, lust flickering in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” You gasp.

“Y/N,” He says eyebrow cocking.

“Isn’t my new beanie cute?” You deflect the rising tension by placing your new cashmere beanie on your head. You bobble, showing the plush toggle on top.

“It’s very cute,” Jungkook laughs.

“I sent a few things to you,” You say, taking your hat off and sitting back down. “And by a few, I mean two boxes…”

“Two boxes? How big are these boxes?” Laughter was in his voice as he waits for your response.

“They’re standard, Jungkook,” You’re a little embarrassed by the amount of humor he’s finding in this admission of your Christmas splurge.

“Standard? Oh my god, they’re huge!” Jungkook can’t stop laughing.

“I got carried away, okay?” Your tone is defensive and chaste, a blush in your cheeks.

“What’s in them?” He asks, the crinkles in his eyes present as his bunny teeth part to laugh again.

“Goodies,” You say, trying to hide your smile by glaring at him.

“Mm, what kind of goodies?” Jungkook settles down, taking a deep breath to tuck his laughs away. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Jungkook,” You respond, faux shock laced in your words.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at your gentle scolding.

“What’s in the boxes?” He asks again.

“Well, something for your hyungs,” You tell him.

“You didn’t have to,” He’s always amazed by your generosity.

“I know, I wanted to. It’s nothing big... I don’t know if they’ll even like it. They’re all wrapped, with their names on them. And I sent a few gifts for you, one from my aunts, one from my mom, and a few from me,” You rattle off the list, which seems far longer than Jungkook thought it would be.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He says, a soft smile on his lips.

“Jungkook, it’s Christmas,” You remind him.

“I know, but they’re just items,” His words are delicate, he knows how you feel about the holiday.

“I put a lot of thought into them okay?” Your annoyance is clear in the way your lips punctuate _okay_.

“Hey, you know I’ll love them,” His eyes are trained on you, watching as you soften.

“And you know, some cookies that will probably be smashed or stale… and a few, other items,” You shrug, a flirtatious look in your eyes.

“Other items?” Jungkook raises his eyebrows, smirk on his lips. Had you sent him what he hoped for?

“Mm, oh and something for your parents and Jung-Hyun.” You nod, signally the end of your list.

“Jagi, you’re too sweet.” 

“I know, my thoughtfulness is unparalleled,” You shrug at the compliment.

“As is your humility,” He chuckles.

“You love it,” You smirk.

“I sent you something too,” Jungkook says, leaning back against his headboard.

“Oh?” You’re not entirely surprised, but Jungkook has a way of getting you the perfect thing that you’d never in a million years pick for yourself. Your favorite cashmere sweater, the Chanel purse you vowed to yourself you’d buy when you made any money (which frankly, you never did), your favorite winter coat, a ring with gems from your birth months, a 14k white gold necklace with his initials, a tribute you were sure was tacky, but always made you feel closer to him… a photo album filled with your most precious memories… The year he created an entire journal full of art, poems, lyrics, that reminded him of you… You wanted for nothing, and Jungkook gave you everything.

“Yes, it should be there soon,” Jungkook’s smile begins to falter.

“Mine will be too,” You look down, picking at the piece of paper sat on your desk.

“You’re not going to surprise me and send you know, yourself?” He whispers, knowing the answer.

“No, I’m not shipping myself to you,” Your voice is hollow, eyes still downcast.

“But can you?” His voice is small, fragile, weak.

“Honey,” You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t keep having this conversation, it hurts too much. It’s just one holiday. We spent decades without each other, can’t we make it through this?”

“It’s been months, Y/N. I’ve tried holding back the tears, I’ve tried to sing and deck the halls with everyone, but it doesn’t _feel_ like Christmas. I miss you in my bones,” Jungkook’s free hand clutches his chest, his eyelids becoming heavy as the tears start to form.

“I feel it too… We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other,” You admit.

The isolation of being apart from your lover for nearly a year… a year of fear, of anxiety, of sleepless nights and terrors as the world became overwhelmed by a pandemic, and the states were thrust into another round of Black Lives Matter protests coupled with an election that could be deemed as one of, if not the most, important election on American soil. All you wanted was Jungkook. His presence, ever calming, his joy, always contagious, was what your soul craved. You spent hours on video calls and phone calls, which often devolved into video sex, any form of intimacy you could muster to tie you to one another. The promotional work of BE, paired with the success of Dynamite and their Bang Bang Con and ONE concerts, Jungkook had zero ability to even try and find his way to you, or to chart a course for you to find him.

It wasn’t fucking possible. He knew it, you knew it, and few things had been as devastating as realizing you were going an indefinite amount of time without each other.

“Who am I going to kiss at midnight? Jimin?” Jungkook scoffs.

“You’re performing, there’ll be so-

“No, it won’t be you. I’m not kissing anyone except for you and our children,” Jungkook’s remark is flippant, a call back to a conversation you’d had months ago, wherein he asked where you thought your lives were headed.

“Jungkook!” You say, eyes wide. You’d vowed to put talk of babies or marriage on the back burner until he had an idea of when he would do military service, before 30 or after. You hadn’t caught baby fever, but with Jungkook you knew it would hit and hit hard.

“I didn’t know I would hurt this much, if I did, fuck, I would’ve flown you out sooner or come to you-

“Jungkook you couldn’t have come to me, and there’s no way the government would’ve let me in.” Your tone is stern, moving quickly towards your limit of heartache.

“I don’t fucking care!” Jungkook’s tears are flowing freely. You wonder if it was possible for anyone to cry us much as the two of you have in the past ten months.

“I miss you every second of everyday,” Jungkook’s heartache punctuates every word.

“Write me a song,” You suggest.

“What?”

“Write me a song, or five, fuck an entire album. Put your anguish into music, sing for me,” Your eyes are bright with possibilities.

“I can do that,” He says, the idea sweeping over him like a wave in the pacific.

“I’ll be here, embroidering and puzzling my sadness away,” You offer a smile. “Might as well put it into something productive.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” He asks.

“It won’t, I know it won’t, but can’t we just pretend it will?” You assured.

“It’s hard to pretend my heart isn’t breaking over and over and over again.” Jungkook wipes his eyes, slightly alarmed at the number of tears he’d produced.

“Mine is too,” Your words were soft, almost an echo of his hurt.

“So, just, find a way to come home. Baby, please, just, come home for Christmas.”


	6. Pretend That We're There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ho-Seok and his love wander a Christmas Tree Farm.

**Pretend That We're There**

[Inspired by Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozk8xq0Lp1g)

Christmas lights are strung across exposed wooden beams. Icicles pinned to the peaks of the exterior, shimmering off the naturally reflective snow. The snow, freshly fallen, is still pristine, unblemished by the people who have just walked through the front doors of the Christmas Tree Farm. The air, ripe with pine and mulled wine and hot apple cider sweeps through the space, engulfing everyone in a sugar-coated induced holiday coma.

Ho-Seok holds your hand, the warmth from his enrapturing yours. You feel his thumb making circles against the back of your hand, and glancing at him, you can’t help but smile. His eyes are wide, too wide, as if the larger his eyes are the more exposure he has, resulting in capturing the best memories. His mouth is mimicking his eyes, jaw slacked as he takes in the festive decorations and bustle of strangers, all smiling and happy as they engage in their own Christmas traditions. The music is soft, some version of What Christmas Means to Me, and Ho-Seok bobs his head to the beat.

“Whoa,” He says, stopping in the middle of the space to fully take it in. “This is, incredible.”

He moves slowly, eyes sweeping over the vendors selling mulled wine and apple cider, the stands of ornaments and Christmas trinkets, the signs pointing towards the animals and Christmas trees. The smells overwhelming his senses as he tries to locate the booth of fresh cookies and sweets.

“Whoa,” He repeats.

“Where should we start?” You ask.

“Animals?” He suggests.

“Perfect,” You can’t stop smiling, his joy radiating against yours.

You walk through the venue, making your way quickly to the reindeer, glancing at the sign pointing you towards the full stable of nativity animals. They have a donkey, sheep, a camel, everything that would’ve welcomed the baby Jesus into the world. Squealing as you notice a baby reindeer, Ho-Seok takes a photo as you giddily pay the few dollars for a couple of carrots to feed them.

“Do you think reindeer are better than people?” You whisper to the reindeer, all gathered to nibble the carrots you are offering. “We’re not all bad, especially him,” You jerk your head towards Ho-Seok, who is busy snapping pictures of you. “He’s pretty fucking great.”

“Y/N! Don’t swear at the animals!” Ho-Seok scolds, slipping his hand into his pocket.

“It was a compliment,” You wink.

“I wonder if they’ll paint one of their noses red,” He asks, taking a carrot from you.

“Maybe, I wonder if they have the full line up,” You say.

“Dasher and Dancer and Donner and Blitzen!” He says full conviction in his voice.

“Do you really know them all?” You ask, amazed he’d retained that tidbit.

“No, they’re on that sign!” Ho-Seok guffaws.

“You’re the worst!” You say lightly hitting him.

“Let’s go see them, maybe someone will take our photo!” Ho-Seok pulls you along to explore the rest of the stables.

Together you are in awe of the nativity scene, real people seated amongst the animals, a reader telling the story of the birth of Jesus. As you wander past it, you notice an arrow pointing towards Santa, and another reader is flawlessly reciting Twas the Night Before Christmas. Children and their willing parents are lined up to take a picture with Santa, his elves passing out candy canes to waiting children.

“Did you ever take Santa photos?” HO-Seok asks.

“No, absolutely not!” You respond, eyes wide.

“Never?”

“I think they tried one year with my sister, and never with me,”

“She ruined it?” He inquires.

“No, it’s just, weird. That’s not even,” You lower your voice, “The real Santa.”

“Y/N, are you telling me you still believe?” He asks, shocked.

“I’m saying that some of these kids don’t know that these Santas aren’t real, they work for Santa and do his work around the world while he’s busy planning the route and checking his list, twice,” Your voice doesn’t waver, causing Ho-Seok to wonder if you truly believe this. Your eyes are just wide enough, innocence fresh as you explain the innerworkings of Santa Claus.

“Oh, makes sense,” He says nodding. He loved your nonsense stories, your traditions or quirks that made him scratch his head. He didn’t know people like you existed, people who still believed in the magic of the holiday season.

“Are you thirsty?” You ask, guiding him back towards the main barn.

“Mm, yes, and hungry,” He says.

“I’ll get the cider; you get the cookies?”

“Meet in the middle?” He offers. You nod, kiss him quickly and maneuver through the crowds to the vendor selling hot apple cider. You opt for the traditional beverage, though the temptation for a spiked cider is very appealing. Slowly you make your way through the extra stalls, looking at the gifts and the joy on everyone’s face. This is Christmas, the magic of giving and receiving, the bliss of spending time with family. It was all you wanted, wandering a Christmas Tree farm with someone you love, sipping cider, nibbling cookies, trying not to sing to the carols and songs playing.

You circle through and find yourself in the middle, where Ho-Seok stood, still staring in awe at the Christmas bazaar. You exchanged your items, a cider for him, a sugar cookie for you, and began to walk through the stalls.

“We should get something,” He suggests.

“Like what?” You ask.

“Something special, to commemorate this trip,”

“Hmm, something to take out every year?” You clarify.

“Yes, like an ornament,” He says.

You agree, knowing full well he will never be able to decide, the temptation to buy them all and trying to find the most perfect one will overwhelm him, and he’ll leave empty handed.

In true fashion, thirty minutes later, all stalls visited twice, drinks and cookies gone, Ho-Seok stands empty handed.

“I don’t know why this is so hard,” He’s frustrated.

“Babe, you knew this was going to happen,” You say softly, lips moving swiftly to kiss his.

“I wanted to just, find something special.”

“Maybe you’re looking too hard,” You shrug, hands moving from his shoulders to capture his hands in yours.

“Maybe,” He says, still pouting.

“Do you want to dance before we go?” You suggest, eyebrows wagging.

“Dance?” He questions, no one was dancing around you, no couples were swaying to the tunes from overhead, no one holding their loved one close, absentmindedly stepping in time to the beat.

“Yeah, listen,” You say, closing your eyes.

Ho-Seok copies you, and faintly he hears a favorite, _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_. With your hands, still in his, you pull him closer to a corner speaker. He lets go first, only to place his hands on your hips, pulling you to him. Your hands around his neck, you sway, both singing lightly to the song. Your love, much like a bow on a present, ties you together. The joy of a Christmas spent together, enjoying the festivities brings out the adoration you have for one another. Even when he’s frustrated, even when you’re hopped up on sugar, like the star in the sky, you always find your way to each other.

Two days later, a fire raging, Ho-Seok sits next to you on the couch, an arm lightly tossed behind you, drawing you into his side.

“This is for you,” You say, untangling yourself from him and hand him a wrapped box.

He smiles, beams, as he carefully slips off the immaculate ribbon and tears the paper. He’s careful with the weight, it’s heavy, which confuses him based on the boxes size. He looks at you, confused.

“What is this?” He asks, opening the box and removing the tissue paper. Carefully he takes out the bulbous snow globe. His eyes are wide, words ceasing to flow from his lips. “When did you, how did you?”

“You went to take a picture of something, right before we left, and I picked it up,” You shrug. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says, shaking the snow globe lightly, the glitter and snow swirling around the Christmas trees, mimicking the farm you’d spent an evening at just a day or two ago. On the placard at the base of the globe reads “May every wish come true”.

“It’s perfect,” He says, still staring at the orb.

“When you’re alone, you can shake it and be transported back here, to our time together,” You say, leaning forward to rest a cheek on his shoulder. His mind is still absorbed in the gift, the love you have for him… the love he has for you, a marvel.

“When I’m feeling alone, I’ll have you to remind me of home,” Ho-Seok whispers to the snow globe.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” You say, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.


	7. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had asked Ho-Seok for one thing at this party, one thing for Christmas, that you not be invited.

**Once Bitten, Twice Shy**

[Inspired by Last Christmas by Wham! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YUH8Xfz-jg)

Wham! blasts from the speakers, a song a little too on the nose for Jimin. He’s skulking in the corner, sipping his vodka cranberry, an attempt by Ho-Seok to have a themed drink for the holiday party. He hated it. The party, not the drink. A group of their friends, a few acquaintances, dressed in hideous sweaters and soon to be forced to play White Elephant, a game he would normally enjoy. Except for that fact that his ex has just walked in, new boyfriend on her arm, and Jimin had selected an item from the box of stuff she’d left at his house.

He is fuming.

First, Areum is here.

Second, she is going to recognize the gift, and then everyone would know he pawned the gift from her left-over shit.

Third, he wasn’t nearly drunk enough and hardly anyone was dancing, meaning he wasn’t going to bust a move and be the singular star on the Christmas tree that was dance floor.

Finally, he was going to have to speak to her at some point in time, at the party where they’d fallen in love, at the party that had led to their relationships demise.

He had asked Ho-Seok for one thing at this party, one thing for Christmas, that you not be invited.

Ho-Seok couldn’t guarantee that, having already invited her, not knowing she would be showing up on the arm of one of Seokjin’s friends.

Jimin downs his drink, moving swiftly to the bar for another.

“I’m sorry Jiminie,” Ho-Seok says, arm resting across Jimin’s shoulders. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know,” Jimin shakes his head. “She hasn’t been posting about it.”

“You shouldn’t check that,” Taehyung advices, waiting patiently for the bartender to tend to his empty glass. “It’ll drive you crazy.”

“I gave her my heart,” Jimin says, justifying his obsessive habit of checking your public Instagram.

“She fooled you,” Taehyung says, sipping his Old Fashioned.

“If we met under the mistletoe. And she kisses me again,” Jimin wonders aloud.

“She’ll fool you again,” Ho-Seok says, concern crossing his eyes.

“I sent her a letter,” Jimin tells his friends. They casually move from the bar to stand by the Christmas tree, Jungkook and Yoongi joining them.

“Who?” Jungkook asks, hand reaching for Taehyung’s drink, eager to try it.

“Areum,” Yoongi answers.

“You know?” Ho-Seok looks at Yoongi, surprised.

“Of course, I know,” Yoongi sips on his drink, a concoction Jimin doesn’t recognize. He reaches his hand for it, sniffing before taking a small sip.

“Aye, that’s so strong!” He says scrunching his nose.

“Then don’t drink it,” Yoongi snatches his glass back and makes a show of downing half of it in one go. Jimin and Jungkook laugh, his show of bravado working as a woman walks by, eyeing him up and down.

“What’d the letter say?” Taehyung asks, moving to stand in the space Yoongi had occupied.

“I just, I told her I loved her and that if you know… things were different, maybe we could try again,” Jimin refuses to make eye contact with his brothers.

“Jimin, why?” Ho-Seok asks.

“I had already bought her Christmas present, so I just sent it with a note,”

“Did she ever respond?”

“No,”

“And now Areum’s here?”

“With him,”

“Wasn’t he?”

“Yep,”

Last Christmas, at Ho-Seok’s annual party, Jimin had found Areum cozied up next to Park Hyung-Sik, who had been invited by a friend of Seokjin’s. It wasn’t platonic, it wasn’t innocent, and it wasn’t the first time Jimin had wondered about her loyalties. She had been the first one in a while to bring Jimin out of his shell, to brighten his mood, to understand his often-unhealthy drive. He thought it was love, but last year, a year after they’d started seeing each other, casually and then more seriously as the year progressed, he found her in a back room, cozied up to Hyung-Sik.

He had given his heart to her, and she gave it away without a care.

“You need to distract yourself,” Namjoon offers, coming up to check in on the men. “You also need to stop standing in a clump, go mingle.”

He nudges Taehyung, who nods in agreement and decides to go find someone other than his soulmate to talk to. Jimin watches as Areum and Hyung-Sik move towards the bar, and he quickly turns to the person walking in front of him, grabbing their wrist.

“Hi, sorry, can you just, talk to me for a minute?” Jimin asks.

“Um, sure?” You agree. You look at him hesitantly, and Jimin realizes he hasn’t let go of your wrist.

“Sorry, Jimin,” He says holding out his hand. You take it apprehensively.

“Y/N,” You smile.

He’s wounded.

“How do you know Ho-Seok?” He asks.

“Oh, I’m best friends with one of Ho-Seok’s make-up artists,” You say, sipping your drink. “And you?”

Jimin laughs.

“Ho-Seok and I go way back,” he assures.

“Hmm, so who are you avoiding?” You question.

“Avoiding?” His eyes are wide. “How did you?”

“You grabbed the wrist of a stranger, at a party where one of the hottest actors in Korea just showed up, and your boys are nowhere in sight,” You rattle off the reasons, each true. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

“I, yeah, it is,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, that’s a fucking awful way to spend Christmas,” You say, sympathy in your eyes.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” Jimin smiles.

“Ah, how many drinks deep are you?” You ask, eyeing his mostly full glass.

“This is three,” He counts, recalling each as the night progressed.

“Hmm,” you hum, looking into your glass before tossing it back, “I better catch up.”

Grabbing Jimin’s hand, you lead him to the kitchen, far away from Areum and Hyung-Sik.

“What’s your poison?” You ask, standing in front of the reserve stash.

“Anything clear,” Jimin responds, trying to grasp who you are.

“Want to do a few shots?” You offer.

“I thought you were the one that has to catch up?” He asks, smirk dancing on his lips.

“Fair, I’ll do a few shots, say, two?” You suggest.

“Okay,” Jimin chuckles. You smile, pouring yourself a double and tossing it back.

“Fuck!” You yell, the alcohol burning your throat as it goes down. “You’d think he’d supply higher quality liquor.”

“No, Ho-Seok cares more about the DJ and the dancing,” Jimin informs you.

“Oo, do you want to dance?” You ask. “There won’t be any choreography, and I can’t promise I can lift you, but I can promise you that it’ll be fun.”

“Who are you?” Jimin’s heart is racing, you are enticing and scary and overwhelming.

“Y/N, and you’re Jungkook, right?” You laugh, handing him a shot. “Bottom’s up.”

Together you take another shot, and before he realizes it, you’ve slipped your hand into his and are guiding him towards the dance floor.

Someone’s cued Wham! again, and Jimin spots Ho-Seok trying not to lose his shit over the DJ playing the same song _twice_. Jimin catches his eye, and Ho-Seok gives him a thumbs up, a reference to you, he’s sure. Jimin nods before turning back to you and laughs heartily at your current state.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart / But the very next day, you gave it away / This year, to save me from tears / I'll give it to someone special!” You belt as you twirl in front of him, sparkling skirt reflecting the dim holiday lighting. Jimin reaches for you, pulling you close, and he can’t tell if it’s the holiday spirit, the copious amounts of alcohol, or the way you’re smiling at him, but he’s beginning to feel like maybe this Christmas, he’s going to understand what real love really is.


	8. Ribbons & Bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung can't figure out what to get you for Christmas.

**Ribbons & Bows**

[Inspired by Kacey Musgraves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UsQelOfbJeQ)

“Ugh!” Taehyung yelled, tossing his phone across the room. The burst of movement and elevated volume scared Yeontan, who uncharacteristically began to bark, unsure what to do at Tae’s sudden outburst. “Damn it!” He yelled, hand slapping loudly against the wood of his desk. He raked his fingers through his hair, and nervously began biting his nails.

“Tae, are you alright?” You asked, walking briskly into his office. “What happened?”

He can hear the concern in your voice, the fear that something truly tragic has happened.

“Nothing, I’m just disappointed, something fell through,” He shook his head, curls falling daintily on his forehead.

“With work?” You questioned.

“No, Christmas,” He turned in his chair, eyes scanning your face.

“Christmas?” You repeated, leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah, something important.”

“Is there anything I can do to fix it?” You asked.

“No,” Taehyung sank in his chair.

“Do you want to be alone?” You offered.

“No, I have rehearsals for the MMA and MAMA awards,” He stood, placing a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the closet.

“Will you be all day?” You inquired.

“I think so, we have rehearsals at Big Hit and then they want to talk about the New Year’s performance,” He called, digging in a draw for a sweatband.

“So, don’t wait up?” You inferred.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” He stopped, taking in your sunken shoulders. “I’m sorry that spending Christmas with me is a lot of you spending time alone.”

“It is what it is, Tae. Maybe I’ll have the driver take me to the mall or to a museum, there are a few exhibits that I haven’t seen yet,” You offered, trying to lessen the guilt he was feeling.

“Okay, if we get done early or if we take a dinner break, I’ll send for you, yeah?” He suggested.

“Yeah,” You said, nodding.

Taehyung wrapped you in his arms, his guilt blending into your compassion.

“I love you,” He leaned down, lips finding yours out of habit, enrapturing you in the sensation of his touch.

“I love you too, and you’re going to be late,” You said, eyes staring into his.

“Don’t wait up, and I’ll try to be home early.”

You stood in his office as he left, Yeontan instinctively retreating to you, nuzzling your sock covered feet.

“I know, Tannie, it fucking sucks,” You said reaching down to pick him up. “At least we have each other, you can help me wrap presents.”

When Taehyung asked you to spend December with him, you were hesitant. A month in Korea was thrilling, the potential for exploring and being with him for longer than a week or a handful of days was enticing… It had the potential to be magical and amazing. What you hadn’t accounted for was his rehearsals, the MMA and MAMA awards back-to-back, coupled with New Year’s prep and other interviews and promotions... December was supposed to be busy with holiday shopping and family stress, not an overwhelming amount of work anxiety and disdain for the profession he loved.

After reviewing his schedule together, Taehyung had apologized profusely, feeling so guilty he was pulling you away from family to sit in his apartment in Korea. He arranged a tour guide, and the first two weeks you spent most days outside, exploring Seoul, going to markets and museums. Your guide was your lifeline to the rest of the world, and you were eternally grateful for her generosity and kindness. To the Korean’s, you were just another foreigner touring their country, which afforded you the ability to go _everywhere_ , endless possibilities for you to take advantage of.

Throughout your day trips, you collected trinkets and items for Christmas gifts, and after requesting items for a wrapping station, you slowly started to prep Tae’s apartment for Christmas. He didn’t have many decorations but hinted that he would be happy with whatever you wanted. With your guide by your side, you set out to outfit his home for the holidays. You were happy to be busy with something, and grateful that Taehyung had money in spades. Nothing was too much, and after a few days, his home finally turned into the Christmas palace you’d imagined. The scent of pine wafted through the halls, lights were strung delicately, with garland and trinkets placed gently around the living room and kitchen. You’d even put a small tree in the bedroom, whose warm glow gave Tannie comfort as he slept under it.

While you wrapped presents, Taehyung was entering the rehearsal space in a foul mood, your understanding eyes, with a hint of sadness crinkling the corners as he placed a goodbye kiss on your forehead. The image wouldn’t go away.

“Aye, TaeTae, you alright?” Ho-Seok asked, eyeing the state of the maknae.

“No,” He said, head shaking, slipping his headband over his ears to push his hair back. “Let’s fucking work.”

The six members exchanged a worried glance, Taehyung was never this angry or upset. He was even keeled, easy going, bringing light to every space he entered. Their concern mounted as the hours stretched on and Tae developed a determination that rivaled Jimin’s and a disdain for everything spoken that was coming for Yoongi’s crown.

“Tae, you gotta go home,” Namjoon said, gobbling down water during their latest break.

“We’re not done,” Tae said, glaring at him.

“You are, go home,” Namjoon wasn’t asking. He was demanding. Taehyung looked at his bandmates, who all nodded in agreement. He knew the choreography better than any of them, he could skip the last few hours, and no one would be the wiser.

Sulking into his chauffeured car, his mind drifted back to your Christmas gift. What did you want? What did you need? He could just go to Chanel and buy you a bag, or a shirt or clutch from Versace… Maybe a piece of luggage from Luis Vuitton, or a Rolex, you could wear a Rolex… Maybe stop at Tiffany’s, oh, a ring. A pearl ring, maybe that’s it?

He didn’t realize the driver had stopped until he heard his name, _Mr. Kim_ , and pulled himself out of his reverie.

He was trying to be strong, to not let the exhaustion and anger break through to you. Hitting his desk had been the first display you’d come in contact with, and Taehyung hoped it would be the last.

Stepping into his apartment, pine wafting through his nostrils, Christmas lights on and music playing, he padded towards the source: the master bath.

You sat in the tub, bubbles overflowing, a glass of something sparkling in your hands.

“I didn’t know you were coming home so early,” You said, sitting up and staring at him. Wordlessly, he stripped, tossing his sweaty clothes into a pile. He sunk down behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. “Babe?”

“I don’t know what to get you for Christmas,” The admission came with a wave of tears. You tried to turn to face him, to see the look in his eyes, but his decision to sit behind you was intentional, he was embarrassed.

“Babe, it’s okay,” You reassured.

“You’ve been so excited to be here, and so understanding when I’ve been busy and I just… I wanted this to be perfect and I can’t even think of what to get you.” He pulls you closer to him, lips pressing softly at the cross of your neck and shoulder. He sniffles as his lips nip at your skin.

“Aw, honey,” You said hands moving up and down his forearms.

“I’m sorry you’re having a terrible Christmas with me, I’m really sorry,” He said. “I’ve thought about everything… Plane tickets for a vacation, a new car, expensive rings… Everything.”

His brown eyes are wrapped in anguish, why couldn’t he find something perfect for you?

“Taehyung, don’t you know me better than that?” You moved out of his grip, turning to face him, legs moving around his hips.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“There’s something I really want, but it might be hard to find…”

“I’ll find it, what is it?” His desperation was palpable.

“It’s already mine,” You said, smiling gently at him.

“What is it?” His desperation had clouded his ability to understand subtext. You laughed lightly.

“You, Kim Taehyung, I want you,” You answered, leaning in to press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me?” He repeats. You smile, pressing a sound kiss to his lips, slowly sucking on his bottom lip, allowing his tongue entrance into your mouth, your hands moving quickly to tangle in his hair. He moans into your mouth, the tug on his hair eliciting the reaction you’d hoped for.

You pulled away first, forehead resting against his, both gulping down air. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you sigh.

“I don’t need ribbons and bows, Tae, I just need your love.”


	9. May All Your Christmases Be White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you want is a snowy walk around New York City with Jimin.

**May All Your Christmases Be White**

[Inspired by White Christmas ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwPAGzENqiU)

“Baby, I promise, the minute we’re done, we’ll go out for dinner and take that walk you’ve been wanting to go on,” Jimin says, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You said that yesterday,” You remind him, unimpressed by his pleading eyes.

“I know,” He flushes, guilty.

“Just, let me know if you’re not coming back until late and I’ll wait to have dinner, maybe we can have candlelight room service,” You suggest.

“You’re perfect,” He says, walking back to you and placing a kiss on your lips. “What are you going to do today?”

“The Met,” You inform him.

“Again?”

“Have _you_ been there? You could spend a decade exploring and never see everything,” You respond.

“I wish I could go with you,” He says, tone wanton.

“Ditch rehearsals and you could,” You offer.

“In my dreams,” He laughs.

“Dance hard, but not too hard,” You wink.

“Oh?” Jimin’s eyebrows quirk at the suggestive tone in your voice. “What’s my baby got planned?”

“Hmm, come home early enough and you’ll find out,” You shrug, moving to exit the warmth of the king-sized bed.

“You look so sexy,” Jimin says, eyeing your bare legs.

“If only I could see what’s under that coat…” You make a scene of undressing him with your eyes, picturing exactly what he looks like underneath his layers.

“You’re going to make me late for rehearsal,” He whines.

“I’m not doing anything except going to get ready for my day of solitude at the Met, you’re the one staring, trying to get me naked without putting your hands on me.”

“I love you,” Jimin says, hands reaching for the material of your pajama shirt, pulling you against his down jacket. Your glasses bumped, eliciting a giggle from both of you.

“I love you too,” You say.

“I’ll miss you, all day,” Jimin whispers.

“I’ll buy you a souvenir,” You offer, pushing off your toes to press your lips hungrily against his. “Dance for me.”

Jimin smiles, in awe of you before he kisses you again. A loud knock is on the hotel room door, most likely Jungkook or Ho-Seok, their timing impeccable.

“I’ll see you later.”

With a kiss to your cheek, Jimin’s off, a day of rehearsals and a little press awaiting him outsides the confines of the W Hotel in Union Square.

You weren’t kidding when you told Jimin you could spend a decade in the Met. It reminded you of the Louvre, a place you’d only visited during your spring break trip back in high school. It had overwhelmed you, the feeling that you could get lost in it and no one would ever find you permeated the viewing experience. You knew better than to spend time at the Mona Lisa and found yourself wandering through sculptures that stopped your heart, paintings that made you cry, and benches that you were relieved to rest on.

The Met was similar, but with more people. The high number of tourist’s hell bent on spending their days seeing every main attraction in New York before securing a place at Times Square for New Years, and to see BTS, made the museum bustle with unworthy guests. You’d planned your trip accordingly, three days in your week to spend at the Met, each taking a different wing. You were on day three and had saved the latest fashion exhibit for last, knowing it was going to be your favorite. Jimin understood, and he tried to hold his jealousy back.

It was during hour three that he called you first, asking what you’d seen so far, inquiring about specific paintings or sculptures he knew you wanted to see.

It was during hour five, when you’d finally left and made your way through Central Park and were waiting for an Uber to take you to The Plaza for tea. Jimin had booked it for you, a special treat to pass the time while you waited for him to be done with rehearsals.

Stepping into the grand entrance, you were met with an unlikely face.

“What are you doing here?” You gasp, arms wrapping instinctively around Jimin’s neck, pulling him close. “I thought you were busy all day?”

“I maybe told a little lie,” He says, unwilling to let go.

“You said you were going to be back late!” Your astonished expression widens at the bravado he’s exhibiting.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jimin can’t stop smiling.

“You’re the best,” You can’t hide how enraptured you are, love oozing from you to Jimin.

“No, I’m alright, you’re the star,” His smile crinkles his eyes, and he doesn’t hesitate to intertwine his fingers with yours, guiding you to the tea room.

Seated at a little table in the corner, as far away from prying eyes as you could be, Jimin slowly started peeling off his layers.

“You liar!” You say shock on your lips. “You little, liar.”

“You didn’t think I would show up to The Plaza in sweats?”

Jimin pulls out your chair and sits across from you, a stunning cashmere sweater covering his upper body, a pair of slacks hugging his hips.

“You look, _so_ good. I hate you,” You say.

“We’ll get a picture before we go, and you look stunning,” His eyes are twinkling, it’s something about the atmosphere, the portraits of Eloise, the promise of an afternoon together that has you blushing.

“I can’t believe you planned this,”

“I didn’t just plan this,” He responds, glancing quickly at the menu, having already pre-selected and pre ordered.

“What?” Your shock can’t go unnoticed and Jimin’s blushing, looking away from you.

“There’s more,” Jimin leans towards you.

“I get you for the rest of the day?” Your eyes are still wide.

“Honey, you get me forever,” Jimin winks, and it’s your turn to blush.

You pass the hours at The Plaza by drinking champagne, eating cakes and sipping on tea, the swell of Christmas music highlighting everything in a seasonal glow.

It’s only after you’ve finished that Jimin asks the waiter to take a few photos of you, and as you leave, you notice him stalling.

“What?” You ask.

“You’re just really beautiful,” He says, gloved hand reaching for yours.

Stepping outside, you gasp at the falling flakes.

“It’s like they knew,” You say, smiling at him.

“Knew?”

“The stars, they knew all I wanted was a snowy walk with you, and it gave it to me.”

“I love you,” Jimin says again, pulling you to him and kissing you lightly.

“And I, you,” You kiss him again, snow falling in your hair.

Jimin leads you away from the hotel and down an adjacent street, his hand holding yours tightly as you take in the beauty of New York at Christmas. Jimin’s planned the route, but you ending location remains a secret as you follow his lead. All you wanted was time with Jimin, for him to slow down and spend a few hours with you.

“How are you feeling?” You ask as you meander, the snowcapped trees glistening under the moonlight.

“About?”

“New Years, Christmas, work,” You explain.

“Stressed and exhausted. It feels like everyone thinks Yoongi is still precious, like he can’t hold his own anymore, and now it’s falling to me and Hobi,” He says, eyes scanning your face. None of this is new information to you, and you’ve shared similar feelings with him. “It’s a lot of, not slack, but a lot to keep up, and I’m tired.”

“You came off of the MAMA’s and MMA’s really fast, it’s hard to adjust to a new time zone and then to be prepping for New Years, you need a break.”

“I want ARMY to love our performance, to,” He trails off. It’s his old song and dance, and he knows you can recite it.

“I love you Jimin, your brothers love you, your performance is going to be fabulous, and you love yourself, right?” Your voice trails off. It’s your own song and dance, and Jimin willingly dances it with you.

“I have another surprise for you,” Jimin says, aptly moving your conversation to a merrier topic.

“What?” You ask.

Like a scene from a movie, a horse drawn carriage pulls up beside him. A white and silver sleigh fit with stunning white horses and waiting patiently for you and Jimin to board it. 

“We’re staying at The Plaza tonight,” Jimin can’t stop smiling.

You’re speechless as you board the carriage, never having been in one before. The novelty alone is sending you to your highest holiday joy. Jimin wraps his arm around your shoulders as you settle into the plush bench, covered in a heavenly plaid blanket.

Nuzzling your cheek, Jimin whispers in your ear, “May your days be merry and bright.”


	10. Shawty, With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scheme is hatched with an end goal in mind: get Yoongi under the mistletoe with a special someone.

**Shawty, With You**

[Inspired by Mistletoe by Justin Bieber](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUjn3RpkcKY)

Yoongi moves absentmindedly through the Christmas party. It’s a mix of who’s who in the music scene, a wanna be Quincy Jones Grammy party outfitted with the hottest celebs, elves and a high society mall Santa. Somewhere in the mix of celebrities and B-listers, Yoongi knows, is you.

You, no doubt dressed in an ethereal holiday outfit, make up flawless and striking, resembling something straight from Euphoria, and if he knows you, laughing. God, Yoongi loves your laugh, the trill notes you hit in your giggle, the way your smile showed your double set of dimples, chocolate eyes squinting as you lost yourself in bliss. The smile you made when you’d calmed down, not gummy like his, but dazzling, blinding, Helen of Troy sent men to war over her beauty, and if you were any less otherworldly, you could destroy the galaxy.

“You have to talk to her,” Namjoon urges, moving to stand next to Yoongi.

“I don’t even know if she’s here,” Yoongi says, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Text her,” Namjoon says.

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head.

“Make a move before she finds someone else to kiss at midnight,” Namjoon takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows raised. “I’m right.”

“Namjoonie, leave me alone,” Yoongi blushes, gently shoving his maknae.

“At least come dance with us,” Namjoon nudges him towards the dance floor, and he resigns himself to partake.

“Let me get a drink first,” Yoongi counters, and reluctantly Namjoon allows Yoongi out of his sight.

Drifting to the bar, Yoongi bumps into a countless number of celebrities, all looking at him with confusion and recognition in their eyes. They can tell he’s important, the way he holds himself, the manner he’s dressed… It screams of his status, but they can’t place him. K-pop absolutely, but which group? And after they determine the group, which member? Yoongi appreciates his anonymity, though racist, as he brushes against Jimin at the bar.

“Suga-hyung!” Jimin calls, smile dancing on his lips. He wraps his arm around his shoulders, dragging him to the front of the line with him.

“How deep are you?” Yoongi asks, laughing at the blatant intoxication of Jimin and Jungkook.

“Get on our level!” Jungkook yells, giggling immediately as the words fall from his lips.

“Fine,” Yoongi orders three shots, tosses them back and turns to his maknae. “Happy?”

“Let’s dance!” Jimin calls. He takes the hand of each man and guides them to the dance floor. An EDM version of Last Christmas fades as a dance-pop remix of Jingle Bell Rock takes its place. The seven men have a way of finding each other regardless of circumstance, regardless of the crowds around them… Their hearts beat together. Tonight, though hammered nearly into oblivion, they’ve managed to find one another on the dance floor. To say they’re a spectacle would be an understatement. It’s hard to dance anywhere when Jimin, Ho-Seok, Taehyung and Jungkook could wipe the floor with anyone that tried, and tonight is no different.

They laugh and sing as they groove, only stopping when Yoongi stands still, eyes staring at a figure in the distance.

You’re laughing with some guy he doesn’t recognize, the light of the nearby Christmas tree illuminating your dimples, gold eye liner striking a contrast against your warm skin. Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s staring until Taehyung is in his face, drunken smile dancing on his boxy lips.

“Yoongi-ah go say something,” Taehyung urges.

“He’s too scared,” Ho-Seok adds.

“Just remind her how handsome you are… Oh wait, that’s me!” Jin laughs at his bad joke, which elicits an eyeroll from Namjoon and a giggle from Jimin.

“She doesn’t care,” Yoongi shrugs, ear trying to make out the new song the DJ is scratching.

“That’s a lie and you know it, she likes you,” Taehyung teases.

“How would you know?” Yoongi questions, eyes suspicious.

“Get her under the mistletoe and find out!” Taehyung turns from him, laughing with Ho-Seok as they begin some choreography he doesn’t recognize.

“Oo, kiss her underneath the mistletoe!” Jungkook says, his mind catching up to what Taehyung had suggested.

“That’d be so romantic,” Jimin adds.

“Then you’d know,” Namjoon says. He glances past Yoongi at you. You’re stunning, merriment pouring from you like light from the angels. He knows Yoongi is smitten, the flirting and banter you’ve exchanged over the last few months, the dates that haven’t quite been dates, the longing stares and gentle touches Yoongi hoped he hadn’t dreamed… Namjoon had seen it all. He hoped that being in LA for the holidays would spur his hyung on, give him the courage to seal the deal or be gently rejected, and here he stood, at the hottest Christmas party of the season, standing, staring, unmoving.

Namjoon turned to his brothers, and in a quick huddle they hatched a plan. Yoongi wasn’t clueless, but he could be misdirected, especially when he was drunk, especially when you were involved.

Guiding Yoongi back to the bar, Namjoon turned quickly into the crowd, leaving Yoongi alone. Annoyed, he started walking back to the dance floor, only to be grabbed by Jimin who said Namjoon was at the other bar, on the opposite side of the room. Nodding, Yoongi started making his way through the crowd to the opposite side, only to be distracted by Taehyung and Jin, laughing uproariously, guiding him towards the buffet and away from the bar. Somewhere between the buffet and circling around the pool, Yoongi is left alone, taking in his surroundings.

_Where the fuck is he?_

He turns to walk back the way he came, bumping into you. In the distance he sees Namjoon and Ho-Seok, giving him a thumbs up. He suppresses his instinctive eye roll.

“Fuck,” He says, arms intuitively wrapping around your waist to keep you from falling.

“Sorry,” He breathes.

“It’s o- Min Yoongi,” You smile, lipstick still impeccably placed. “Funny running into you here.”

“I, uh, yeah,” Yoongi’s immediately flustered, cheeks crimson as he tries to glance away from you.

“I’ve been looking for you, your friends said you’d be here,” You say, hands tightening around his biceps. He gets the hint and tries to relax but having you in his arms is electrifying.

“Hmm, they led me on some wild goose chase to I guess, find you,” He shrugs.

“Isn’t that romantic?” You laugh, eyes glancing above you. Yoongi copies you, eyes going embarrassingly wide as he takes in what hangs above you. _Mistletoe_.

Yoongi stops staring at the plant, which he assumes is plastic, and dares to lock eyes with you.

“I, uh, I’m,” He’s flustered, and it’s making your knees weak.

“We don’t have to, we can just, walk away?” You offer, a hint of disappointment in your voice. Whether you want Yoongi to detect it or not, he does.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Yoongi says. His dominant hand moves swiftly from your waist to cup your cheek and in a decisive moment, his lips are on yours. They’re soft and gentle, skillful and patient.

In the distance, Yoongi’s brothers whoop and holler before tossing back another shot and dispersing to go back to dancing.

Under the mistletoe, you and Yoongi remain, lips intertwined.


	11. All I Want is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namjoon knows he's sexy, and tonight he came to play fucking ball. Secret Santa, dinner party, desire.

**All I Want is You**

[Inspired by All I Want is You This Christmas by *NSYNC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3g7xnlGodus)

Softly swooping your hair from both shoulders to rest on your right, you smile at your reflection. Your gold eye make-up sparkles against your skin, radiating the golden earrings you’ve placed in your lowest holes. Namjoon watches silently from the living room, unbeknownst to you, undressing you slowly. You pull at your tights, sheer black and hiding the fact that you haven’t shaved and aren’t planning too. The puffed sleeves of your dress compliment your figure, the deep V of the front of your dress is too low for Namjoon’s liking… but he knows it’s not in his place to say anything. Besides, it’s allowing him to picture what’s underneath.

He walks up behind you, standing soundly and moving to place your neckless across your chest, clasping it gently.

“You look stunning,” He says, softly placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You look like sex,” You respond moving away from him to grab your coat and Secret Santa gift. “Don’t forget your gift.”

Winking at him, you move to exit the apartment and wait patiently for him to join you. You weren’t kidding, even slightly, when you took in his appearance. Hair gelled back, crushed velvet jacket and black suit pants… You had laughed when he suggested you coordinate, but the look in his eyes told you he was serious, dead serious. He wanted to look like Christmas with you, so you dug out an old dress that you haven’t worn in years, and prayed it fit. Namjoon knew he was sexy, and tonight he came to play fucking ball.

The entire ride to the party Namjoon couldn’t help glancing at you. The road, to you, back to the road. He couldn’t stop himself from raking his eyes over you, jaw setting as you raised your hips to pull your skirt flush against the seat, or adjust your necklace, hand slowly drawing down between your breasts… He thought he’d cum in his pants from you applying lipstick, gently rubbing your lips together, pouting softly, then smiling slyly at him.

“Are you going to stop staring at me?” You ask as you step out of the car.

“No,” Namjoon says, shaking his head lightly, “Not when you look like that.”

You laugh, eyes rolling at his boldness.

“Can we enjoy this party?” You ask, hand slipping into his.

“It’s just Secret Santa,” Namjoon says, “They’re silly gifts.”

“I spent a lot of time on mine!” You inform him.

“I’m sure they’ll love it, but it’s not a big thing,” Namjoon says. He’s trying to lower your expectations, and you’re grateful, but he’s raining on your Christmas parade.

“Stop trying to ruin Christmas,” You drop your hand from his and smile as the elevator opens onto Taehyung’s apartment.

“Y/N!” He calls, joy written across his face as he moves swiftly to hug you.

“TaeTae!” You call, mimicking his joy and wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so glad you are here! You can put the gift of the table and I’ll take your coat,” Taehyung holds his arm out for yours and Namjoon’s jacket before he retreats to hang them up.

“Baby, I’m-

“It’s whatever, Joon,” Your eyes scan the tree, it’s twice the size of yours and fully decked out in ribbon, bulbous ornaments and stunning ribbon work. “It’s gorgeous,” You whisper walking away from Namjoon.

He’s rolling your eyes at your behavior, annoyed that you’re taking him too seriously. He was projecting from the year Seokjin bought him beef jerky, and it being the first year BTS included the significant others, and if you got anything less than something spectacular, Namjoon was going to tear the giver limb from limb.

He watches as you greet the other partners, smiling and laughing as Yeontan sniffs your feet. You’re squatting to pick the dog up, and Namjoon can’t help but tilt his head, watching your shape bend and stand again. He clears his throat before moving to greet Yoongi.

It’s a game of cat and mouse all evening, neither of your orbits crossing until you’re forced to sit side by side for dinner, the name cards already placed. You smile curtly at him as he pulls your chair out, and thank him kindly as he sits next to you. He’s busy speaking with Yoongi’s partner when your hand finds his thigh, squeezing it gently. Namjoon knows you’re extending an olive branch, and he’d be grateful if he hadn’t spent the entire evening dreaming about tearing your tights away and sinking himself deeply into your cunt. Reaching down, he carefully places his hand on your thigh, slowly sliding it under your skirt to grip your inner thigh. You try to inhale slowly, but he’s making it difficult as his hands start moving towards your cloth covered pussy. Glancing at him with squinted eyes, Namjoon smirks, hand retreating as plates start being passed.

You are relieved as dinner is over and everyone retreats to the living room to begin Secret Santa. The tension in your low abdomen, coupled with the increasing wetness in your panties is so overwhelming, and you hope no one notices you trying to tame your lust. Hopefully, Ho-Seok doesn’t notice as you follow him, engaging in some conversation about dance-pop. Namjoon knows this is his only opportunity.

“Babe, can you come here for a second?” Namjoon’s voice is soft as he runs a hand through his hair. You glance at him, knowing fully what he wants. “There’s something on my tie, can you help me get it out?”

“Of course,” You say stepping away from Ho-Seok and following Namjoon down the hall, past the kitchen, to the powder bath.

“We’re supposed to be celebrating and exchanging Secret Santa gifts!” You whisper as he shuts the door and presses you against it.

“Fuck Secret Santa,” Namjoon says into your neck.

“Joon!” You say, pushing him away.

“I just want you,” he growls, hand slipping under the band of your tights, quickly working their way past your lace panties. His lips are on your neck again, burying himself further into you, teeth nipping at the exposed flesh.

“Can’t you wait until we get home? I know Secret Santa doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me,” You ask breath feather light as you moan softly, his cool fingers separating your folds.

“No,” his lips are on yours, the taste of champagne mixes with the sugar from the cookie you’d eaten while chatting with Ho-Seok, the tastes swirling in each of your mouths. Against your better judgement, you lay a fierce grip on his collar, tethering him to you like Rudolph to the sleigh. You’re matching him, passion for passion, hips grinding into his hand as he hurriedly tends to your clit.

“We can just go, right?” You whisper, pleasure overwhelming you. “Joon,” You moan, head resting on his shoulder.

“I need you,” His fingers aren’t enough, and he pulls away, eyes blown. “We should just go, right?”

“What about Secret Santa?” You tease.

“We’ll get your gifts from Taehyung later,” He says, lips gravitating to yours again. “You heard me, I don’t care about gifts under the tree, all I want is you,” His sincerity and earnestness strike a match, and you feel the tears before you realize you’re crying.

“All I want is you, Joonie,” You whisper. Placing a quick kiss to your forehead, Namjoon’s opening the door out of the bathroom and guiding you quickly through your friends.

“Leaving so soon?” Seokjin laughs.

“Yeah, I had Jungkook,” Namjoon calls over his shoulder.

“I had Areum,” You say, pointing at Seokjin’s girlfriend. She smiles, pleased. “If you hate it, I have the gift receipt!”

Namjoon chuckles as he hands you your coat and waving swiftly, and as you enter the elevator, he’s got you pinned against the back wall, your laugh crescendos at his bravado.

“Joonie,” You laugh.

“I didn’t mean to belittle Secret Santa, I know you’ve been looking forward to it,” He says, eyes locked with yours.

“Yeah, you shit all over it,” You respond.

“I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up and then be crushed when someone gifts you a bath bomb in a scent you can’t stand.”

“Is that what someone got me?” You ask.

“No, I just, I want you to always have the best Christmas and the best Christmas gifts.”

“I want that for you too,” You pull on his collar again, lips meeting his again. It’s hurried and hot, lips battling for dominance. 

“Don’t you know the best thing you could give to me?” Namjoon says, chest heaving, forehead resting on yours, eyes closed tightly.

“Hmm?” You whisper.

“You, all I ever want for Christmas is you.”


	12. Only In My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ho-Seok is tucking himself on Christmas Eve, but it's unlike any he's experienced before.

**If Only in My Dreams**

[Inspired by I'll Be Home for Christmas ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTts0u5UB2w)

Ho-Seok hadn’t bothered to look at the calendar in days. He knew the countdown was on, and he knew the more he looked, the more heartbroken he’d become. Adjusting his fatigues, he stepped into the barracks, and greeting his fellow soldiers, moved swiftly to his bunk. Lights out was in ten minutes and he wasn’t one to toe the line. Quickly changing into his once itchy military pajamas, Ho-Seok climbed into bed, armed with a reading light and his journal.

Personal items were near nonexistent, but journals, particularly for a K-pop Idol, were granted with the understanding that he could only use it prior to lights out. He tried to get into bed as early as possible, to write down lyrics, song ideas, his emotions, before he was obligated to put it away, falling into a listless slumber.

Conscription was mandatory, and with it, an accepted truth that his life would be miserable for twenty-four to thirty-six months. It was rare to be given a chance to see family outside of the base, and holidays off were a nonstarter. He knew this before going in, but Ho-Seok hadn’t begun to process the feeling of being separated from the six men that meant the most to him for years. It felt akin to being drugged, transported to a new country where you didn’t speak the language, and expected to survive. Gone were his comforts, gone were the laughs, gone was the familiarity.

He flipped to his place from last night, a few lyrics and a sketch of BTS. He’d taken it upon himself to draw them at least once a week, a refusal to forget their faces or their characteristics. He wrote pages describing each of them in precise details. When he was honest with himself, he knew he was terrified he’d forget them. Waking up every day in this hell made his life before, his life after, seem like a dream, a nonexistent possibility. He knew, in some part of his mind that he refused to access, that what they’d shared wasn’t going to be what he was returning to. Ho-Seok had to reconcile the idea that some of these men found joy in their drills, in knowing schematics of buildings and enjoyed strategies for potential attacks. He had to understand that someone could want this as a career. But, how could he? When he’d had the stars?

Instead, he committed himself to recite lyrics in his head, go over dance routine after dance routine to encourage muscle memory, and to list the things he loved about his brothers regularly. The way Taehyung told jokes, completely stone faced, or the way Jungkook rested his head on Ho-Seok’s shoulder, how Jimin giggled and how Seokjin always used Ho-Seok’s good natured naiveite and gullibility against him… He loved them more than he loved himself, and two years away from them, his family… He was six months in, and he’d already cried more tears than in his entire life.

Compacting matters, he’d missed Jin’s birthday, and Jimin’s, Namjoon’s, Jungkookie’s and soon Taehyung’s. Not that it mattered, he was just one of three in military service at the present. But he missed them. It was about to be his first Christmas without them in a decade. No MAMA or MMA performances, no Dick Clark Rockin New Year’s or Big Hit performance, no celebrating Christmas Eve with Yoongi, sharing a drink and reminiscing on the first Christmas Eve they’d spent together… None of it. Ho-Seok was trying to not let the loneliness swallow him whole, engulfing him in a deep depression. As his pen gently danced across the paper, Ho-Seok couldn’t help but reminisce on Christmases past.

The Secret Santa exchange when Seokjin had yelled at Namjoon for not liking his gift.

Taehyung trying to dress up Yeontan in a Santa sweater, only to have the pup retreat in Ho-Seok’s arms, refusing to acknowledge Tae.

Yoongi declining to sing Christmas songs until Mariah Carey came on, then belting the high notes better than the Queen. 

Jimin attempting to make eggnog… Which resulted in the worst hangovers of their lives.

Namjoon trying to explain the Christian meaning of Christmas, and Yoongi asking why they cared about a baby in a stable, wasn’t he just a baby?

Jungkook sneaking into Ho-Seok’s room, leaving a special Christmas gift for him to find when he woke up.

His family, sharing a meal, taking the day to spend playing games and being together.

They didn’t have a tree, they didn’t celebrate with glad tidings, but they were always grateful for an extra day dedicated to them, a day when Ho-Seok wasn’t bounding from performance to performance, when Da Won wasn’t busily creating stunning fashion moments, a day to just exist as the Jung family.

But not this year. And not next year… Ho-Seok would ring in the holiday on a base with men he was just getting acquainted with, men who knew him as Idol J-Hope, not Hobi-hyung, not Ho-Seok. They knew his music and his fame and money, they saw him as the pride of Korea, how poetic, that not even his money could save him.

When Easter rolled around, a year or two ago, Namjoon had taken it upon himself, as he always did, to educate them on the meaning of Lent. As Ho-Seok became friendly with his fellow soldiers, he couldn’t help but see the parallels between Jesus and himself. If Jesus was so powerful, almighty, omnipotent, couldn’t Ho-Seok use his own fame to get him out of this antiquated, dictated command?

The answer was no. They’d stalled long enough, pushing the age to thirty, when the vast majority of Korean men were done with service, BTS was slowly beginning.

Tucking himself snug under his military blankets, not plush or inviting like his linens at the dorm, Ho-Seok tried to fill his mind with happy memories and hope for the future. Would there be a year when he awoke to someone next to him? A time when excited little feet would pad into the master suit, jumping on him, yelling “Oppa, Oppa, it’s Christmas!” Could there be a time when all seven of them brought significant others and children to celebrate the holiday, westernizing it in their celebrations? Would they ever have a Christmas album? The more he thought, the less hopeless he felt. There was still time for him to create the life he wanted, the Christmas he could only dream of.

As sleep started weighing heavy on his eye lids, Ho-Seok hoped the other six weren’t as lonely as he was, and perhaps like him, they knew that this year, this Christmas, they’d only be home or together in their dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've written, rewritten, added, subtracted to this too many times)


	13. All the Love and Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook is nervous about spending Christmas with your family.

**All the Love and Joy**

[ _Inspired by Christmas Here with You by The Four Tops_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syk5T2S00yM)

Jungkook stood nervously fidgeting with his fingers. His suitcase next to him, a sleek hardcovered black bag, sturdy enough for world tours, waiting patiently to be opened in the hotel. You close by phone to your ear, telling your mom what door you and Jungkook were waiting at. Glancing at him, you smiled softly, his tongue poking from between his lips. His beanie was low, hands covered by his long sleeves to hide any of his tattoos from being seen. People might not recognize his doe eyes, but surely his BTS tattoos would give him away. He watched you carefully, how you stood, how your face contracted and smiled as you chattered on, coat draped over your forearm. He watched as you tucked your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth searching for loose and dead skin to nibble off.

“We should go outside,” You suggested, double checking the ringer on your phone was nice and loud before turning to him.

“Aren’t you going to put your coat on?” He asked following you out the nearest baggage claim door.

“I’m so hot, this happens every year,” You stifled a yawn. You hadn’t slept much in the three days leading to your flight to your aunt’s house. It was a combination of excitement, sex, and sharing every detail of the last two months with Jungkook, who had been holed up in Korea working incessantly. He’d finally finished, with no commitments until New Years, allowing you nearly a week of time together. You were giddy, enthused, excited beyond belief. Jungkook had never spent Christmas with you and your family, and this year, being the year your sister and her husband were joining, was the perfect opportunity to acquaint the extended family with your Idol.

“What if they don’t like me?” He had whispered, breath even, bare chest holding you to him.

“That’s nonsense, they’ll like you,” You reassured him.

“What if they don’t understand me?” He asked again.

“Your English is amazing, and my brother-in-law speaks English as a second language, so it’ll be fine,” You tried to comfort him.

“But I’ve only really been practice-

“Kookie, nothing I say is going to make you worry less, so can we just, acknowledge we’re both nervous? And accept that maybe this will go really well, but it also might tank completely?” You suggested, lips pressing lightly against his pecks.

“I, yeah, you’re right,” He sighed, your touch soothing him.

“Mm, what am I right about?” You asked, lips moving hastily up his neck.

“My wheels are spinning,” He whispered, a soft moan flowing freely after his words.

“That’s the Virgo in you,” You smiled.

“And in you,” He replied.

“It’ll be fun, and if you don’t understand something, just ask,” You said, lips now moving down his jaw towards his lips.

“Will people recognize me?” His question stopped you dead in your tracks. You pulled away, eyes staring at his serene expression.

“Probably? Maybe? But we don’t have to go out much. We do have to go to church, so maybe don’t sing like an angel and we’ll be good,” You tried to add levity to the situation. You didn’t know what would happen if someone screamed JUNGKOOK in a mall or tweeted his picture… You didn’t know.

“I love you,” He whispered, head tilting to capture your lips.

“And I you,” You said rolling on top of him.

Now, waving at your approaching uncle, Jungkook felt similarly to when he had to do press, no not the boredom that came from endless questions about meaningless topics which largely went to Namjoon, but _anxious_. Realistically, he knew that you getting along with the six members of BTS and his family was a far more challenging feat than him acclimating to your midwestern family. Rationally, he knew you would still love him and want a future with him if this week didn’t go well. Emotionally, he was scared shitless that your opinion of him would change. Sensing the slight change in his disposition, you walked up to him and carefully placed a kiss on his porcelain cheek. 

“Hey, you and me,” You felt his shoulders drop at the gesture, and you smiled warmly.

“You’re here!” Your uncle called, stepping out of the minivan and walking to hug you.

“Uncle, this is Jungkook, Jungkook, this is my uncle!” You introduced, moving quickly to hug your mom who had accompanied him. Your uncle, and the rest of your family (bless them), had been practicing saying _Jungkook_ for the last two months.

“You can call me Jungkook, or JK,” Jungkook smiled, his full bunny teeth on display and your heart doubled in size. He moved to greet your mother, whom he had met and spent copious amounts of time with. He was happy to have another familiar face, soon to be joined by your sister and her husband. Their familiar faces brought him comfort and attempted to lessen the nerves.

Sitting in the back of the van, Jungkook continued to fidget with his hands until you absentmindedly reached across the aisle, taking his non tattooed hand in yours. You gave it a gentle squeeze, and he relaxed, your touch always a source of comfort.

Your uncle prattled on about the neighborhoods and geography of the state. He asked little questions of Jungkook, which gave Jungkook a minute to adjust to the cadence of his voice, the way he cracked his neck as he drove, his desire to sip soda from a beaten up Hydro Flask. Jungkook enjoyed the snort of his laugh, and found comfort in the slight smell of tobacco from the pipe your uncle smoked.

It wasn’t long before your uncle was pulling up to the house, a house you had lived in during your childhood, a house which held your greatest treasures. Hopping out, you took stock of the cookies sitting on top of an additional storage chest, keeping cool in the freezing temperatures. Jungkook immediately moved to get the bags and help your uncle carry them in. He lost you momentarily as you disappeared in the house, hugging your aunts.

“Y/N, I’ve watched videos on Youtube, he’s very talented,” One your aunts said.

“He’s very hot,” Your other said giving you a knowing look. You laughed. In the two years you’d been dating, you’d heard similar comments from them, but they never expected to be meeting Jungkook. “He’s very well respected and highly regarded. He’s won so many awards.”

“All of those things are true,” You said kicking off your boots and hanging your coat in the closet.

“Just set them by the stairs,” Your uncle said, pointing Jungkook towards the staircase. He found you waiting, a smile on your lips as you breathed in the air of your second favorite place.

“It smells like Christmas,” You said, opening your eyes to take in the sight of JK. He’d opted for a matching sweat suit, which looked delectable on his muscular frame. “Hug me,” You said, arms extending. Jungkook greedily pulled you to him, cheek resting on the crown of your head.

“You’re so short,” He chuckled.

“You’re abnormally tall, I’m average, thank you,”

“Like Yoongi-hyung,”

“Mm, one of many things Yoongi and I have in common,” You said, smiling against Jungkook’s chest. “come on, you have to formally meet my aunts.”

Pulling Jungkook from the small entryway towards your aunts in the kitchen, Jungkook took in as much as he could. It was exactly as you described it. Holiday decorations older than both of you, a stunning tree dripping in red and gold, snacks and treats on every table, each placed in festive bowls or plates, and a back wall of windows, opening on the expanse of snow behind the house.

Your aunts were mid conversation, discussing what else they needed to get at the grocery store. They looked up to see you and Jungkook, your arm around his waist, a blush already on his cheeks. His hand tattoos were uncovered, and he was unsure how your family would react to his bodily decorations.

“Aunties, this Jungkook, Jungkook, these are my aunts,” You said, the hand around his waist squeezing him lightly. Out of habit, he bowed, and out of habit, your aunts pulled him into a hug, introducing themselves.

“Your very tall,” Your aunt said, eyeing him up and down.

“Uh, yes,” He couldn’t stop blushing.

“What are these tattoos? I’ve seen pictures, can you explain them?” Your other aunt asked.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, a shy smile playing on his lips.

They sat at the kitchen table, his right hand laid out flat, delicately pointing to each one, allowing your aunts to ask questions and run their fingers over the ink. You sat beside him, head rested on his shoulder, arm draped around his waist. Your family had always hoped you’d find a partner, someone that looked at you and understood you for the multitudes you contain. In Jungkook, through him explaining his tattoos and being a willing participant in your holiday traditions, your family could see the love and adoration that flowed freely from you.

Jungkook, hand splayed on the table, his love attached to his side, finally relaxed, realizing that Christmas, here with you and all your family, was all the love and joy he could ever want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, The Four Tops are making history as the first group with two entries in Merry & Bright 2020)


	14. I Sincerely Tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year Seokjin tries, and every year Seokjin fails.

**I Sincerely Tried**

[Inspired by Christmas Makes Me Cry by Kacey Musgraves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7WmnasLzr8)

The stockings were no longer hung by the chimney with care, but tossed around the living room, contents splayed on the carpet. The twinkling lights were barely visible in the daylight, and Nat King Cole was on his second rendition of The Christmas Song. The pretty paper once containing the presents you had meticulously selected was disregarded, wadded up or folded to be recycled before dinner. The ribbons and bows sat in an empty box, to be reused next year. You sat on the floor, engrossed in playing with the new toys, laughing, tickling, smiling like this had been all you wanted for Christmas.

Seokjin sat on the couch, eyes transfixed by the sight in front of him. Sipping on his tea, he tried to smile through the surge of emotions he was feeling, the combination of sugar high and emotional distress. He promised you he wouldn’t do this; swore he would be strong until the kids were tucked in their beds for the night. He guaranteed he could keep it together. You knew he was lying, despite Instagram edits of his previous successful attempts at righting his emotions. But this? You knew when you found out you were pregnant the first time that Seokjin would be a blubbering mess for the rest of his life.

Glancing up at him, you notice the gloss in his eyes. An untrained eye wouldn’t be able to distinguish the glare from his spectacles from tears about to spill, but you knew better, you always did. Standing up from your place on the floor, you moved slowly towards the kitchen.

“Honey, can you help me clean up some of the breakfast mess?” You called, grabbing your children’s dirty plates and moving languidly towards the kitchen. Seokjin cleared his throat and followed, not stopping to make a dad joke about the Christmas mess his children had made.

Delicately placing the plates in the sink, you began to fill it with hot soapy water, leaving them to soak for a while. As the sink filled, you turned to your husband.

“This has to be the record,” You said, eyes forgiving as you took in the alligator tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I tried, I swear, I did,” He said, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, baby, you can cry,” You pushed yourself off the counter and wrapped your arms around his waist. “You do every year,”

“I wanted this one to be different! I don’t want them going ‘oh why is Appa crying? Is he okay?’ I’m a grown man, I should be able to control these tears!”

“Darling, it happens every year,” You smiled at him.

“I sincerely tried to hold it back, I was going to wait until they went to sleep,” Seokjin set his glasses on the counter, his hands grasping at his sleeves to try his tears.

“I know that was the goal, Seokjin, but you can’t control your emotions like that,” You reminded him.

“I’m ruining Christmas,” He said.

“It’s not your fault that Christmas makes you cry,”

“I just… They’re growing up _so_ fast,”

“Oh honey, they’re three and five,”

“Yeah, old enough to remember that their father ruins Christmas every year because he’s crying over them,”

“Baby, you are crying for a totally valid reason, you know I cry on their birthdays,” You offered.

“You at least wait until they’re in bed!” Jin countered.

“No, I don’t, this year I cried during cake!” You jogged his memory.

“They thought you hated your cake,” He laughed, shoulders bouncing up and down.

“It was so funny, they didn’t believe me when I said it was my favorite!”

“It wasn’t your favorite,” He couldn’t stop laughing.

“I don’t need to spoil their dreams, I can pretend it’s my favorite until they get older,” You said, your own laughs settling.

“And then you have to tell them you’ve been lying their entire lives?” His eyes were wide.

“You’re the one that says the Little Mermaid is your favorite!” You argued.

“Low blow,” He said, feigning offense.

“But daddy, I _love_ him!” You whined.

“How dare you,” He was trying to blue steel you, but it wasn’t working.

“I love that you cry on Christmas,” You said, moving back to stand within his grasp, a hand moving to cup his face, thumb tracing shapes on his fair skin.

“You remember our first Christmas as a couple?” Seokjin asked, resting his cheek in your palm.

“I try to forget it,” Your scrunched nose went perfectly with the horrors of that first year together.

“When I was twelve hours ahead, and couldn’t get a hold of you for two days?” Jin reminisced.

“My heart was shattered, I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” You added.

“But my phone was broken, and my texts from my computer weren’t getting to you,” He continued.

“None of the guys were around because they’d gone to see their families, and your brother was in and out with the restaurant,” Your prolonged list of sorrows kept getting worse.

“It was hell, no one to kiss under the mistletoe,” Seokjin said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you remember our first married Christmas?” You inquired.

“Mmm, I missed my flight, and I didn’t arrive to your aunts house until the 26th,” Jin closed his eyes at the blunder.

“I cried then too,” You said.

“We cried together, remember?” He probed.

“Oh my god, we just sobbed on Facetime,” You rested your forehead against his chest, shaking it slowly.

“Everyone kept saying merry Christmas and happy holidays,” Seokjin said.

“We were trying so hard,” You laughed.

“But we were so miserable,” He joined you in mocking the memory.

“And now, look at us,” You were still smiling, eyes bright as you watched him.

“Two kids, a house, a marriage,” Seokjin said, tightening his grip on you.

“Mm,”

“Mama?” Your eldest yelled from the living room. “I’m hungry.”

“Well, who is in charge of snacks?”

“Appa,” They said.

“Hm, who do you need to ask?” You said, glancing past them to eye your three-year-old.

“Appa, can we have a snack please?” They asked, arms reaching up for Seokjin to lift them.

“I think a snack is a good idea, what should we have?” He wondered.

“Whatever makes you stop being sad,” Your eldest responded.

“Oh, honey, Appa isn’t sad,” Seokjin said, placing a kiss to your eldest’s forehead.

“Then why were you crying?” They questioned.

“I was just so happy, watching you two play with mama,” He said.

“Oh, happy tears, like mama on my birthday?” They asked, eyes wide, pouty lips parted.

“Just like that,” Seokjin held your child close, a faint smile on his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you!” Your child giggled before placing a kiss on Jin’s cheek and wiggling out of his arms. “Mama, Appa loves me!”

“I love you too honey,” You replied, your youngest resting on your hip, thumb in their mouth.

“Appa’s making a cha-cha- something board with cheese,” They said sitting on their stool at the counter.

“Oo, yum,” You said, smiling warmly at your little family.

Seokjin moved around the kitchen, gathering fruits and veggies to make the little charcuterie board for your children, setting string cheese and a simpler cracker on the board. He skillfully cut salami and more elegant cheese for the ‘adult’ board he was making for you and him, complete with a flute of prosecco for each of you. He smiled while listening to you and your children chatting, your youngest trying to keep pace with your eldest. His heart swelled at the banter, and in a moment of emotional reprieve, Seokjin was glad that Christmas always made him cry.


	15. What's Your Hurry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow. He wants to go. You don't want him to.

**What's Your Hurry?**

[Inspired by Baby, It's Cold Outside ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Ja9JLuGryU&t=60s)

“It’s really coming down out there,” You say, pulling the curtain back from the floor to ceiling windows.

“Hmm, I should go then,” Taehyung says standing.

“Oh?” You ask, turning from your perch to look at him.

“Tonight, has been so lovely,” His gaze falls on yours, hand subconsciously scratching the back of his neck before tucking neatly into his pockets.

“All day I hoped you’d ask to come over again,” You offer, adoration in your tone.

“Mm, I’m glad I did,” He says sheepishly moving towards you, hands taking yours in his.

“Why are your hands so cold?” You ask, pulling them to your lips and gently placing kisses on each knuckle.

“Your eyes look like starlight,” He says, his own brown orbs glancing between your lips and eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You whisper.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like you’re putting a spell on me,” You smile.

“I should go before it gets too bad out there,” Taehyung says, unwilling to remove his hands from your grasp.

“Why?” You ask.

“The guys will wonder where I am,” He says blushing.

“Don’t you want to stay here, where it’s cozy and warm?” You suggest, a gentle smile on your lips. Your eyes are asking your real question, _don’t you want to stay with me_? Taehyung recognizes the pleading, it’s the same look that he’s giving you. 

“Well, maybe a little while longer,” He shrugs and starts to pull you towards the couch. “The fire is still going.”

“We haven’t finished the movie,” You add.

“Or the wine,” He smiles, pouring the rest of the bottle into each of your glasses.

“Or the dessert,” You say.

“I’ll stay a little while longer,” Taehyung resigns, leaning against the couch, tucking you neatly into his side.

You absentmindedly watch the movie, Taehyung’s comments and reactions proving to be far more entertaining than the latest Netflix Christmas flop. He’s more confused than anything, and he can’t stop asking _What is happening? Why is she doing that? Why can’t they just talk to each other like real people? Who wrote this_? At first it was cute, downright charming, and now you are in stitches, laughing hysterically as he continues to prattle on in detail about how he would change the film.

By the time the credits have rolled, you’re engaged in a conversation of your favorite holiday movie tropes.

“I love the going home for Christmas, running into that ex or crush that you haven’t seen since high school. It’s always awkward, with too much sexual tension to be real, but damn, I love it every time,” You tell him.

“I like when they panic about what to get their special someone, and then their partner says that all they want for Christmas is them. Of course, they kiss,” Taehyung says, nibbling on a Christmas cookie.

“I like when they try to recreate Love Actually and no one gets it,”

“With the cards or the Joni Mitchell?”

“Both, oo or when they quote Christmas songs and try to seem original or unique about it!” You laugh again, and Taehyung sits, admiring the sound.

“You’re silly,” Taehyung says, finger lightly tapping your scrunched nose.

“You’re the silliest,” You say, smile unwavering.

“I should get going,” Taehyung stands and turns to you. “Tonight, has really been, wonderful.”

“Have you looked outside? It’s far worse than it was an hour ago,” You advise.

Taehyung walks to the window and looks out, it’s as if the heavens opened up and dumped every last molecule of water into the atmosphere, watching it fall and metamorphosize into snow.

“It’s really bad out there,” He hums.

“You can’t go, it’s dangerous,” You agree.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” He tries to shrug off the slight worry in your voice.

“You’ve been drinking,” You remind him.

“I can have a driver come and get me,” He counters.

“What if you get in an accident?” You press.

“I guarantee I’ll be safe,” He says turning to look at you.

“You can’t guarantee that in a snowstorm, Tae,” You’re crossing your arms over your chest, eyes glued to his.

“Y/N, I will be-

“Why won’t you just stay?” Your exasperation catches him off guard.

“I don’t want to impose,” He says, blush creeping into his soft cheeks.

“Impose?” You repeat.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” His clarification earns an eyeroll from you.

“You’re not Winnie the Pooh,”

“I don’t want to put you out, I’ve been over a lot the last few weeks,” He shrugs.

“Taehyung, you’re my boyfriend, right?” You demand.

“Yes,” He says with a hint of confusion.

“Then just stay!” You yell, hands reaching for the sky to encourage more flakes to fall.

“It won’t be any trouble?” He questions.

“No, I want you to stay, I want to wake up and see your stupidly gorgeous face, and watch you squirm when I make my morning coffee and listen to you humming while you putz about the kitchen making cereal, just like we’ve been doing for the last few months.” 

“If you’re sure,” He’s smiling now, happy to be welcomed in your company for longer.

“Oh my god, you’re so stubborn!”

“I am not,” Taehyung defensiveness rings in each syllable.

“So, you’re going to hurt my pride instead of saying exactly what you want?” You push, annoyance countering his defiance.

“The snows not that bad, I can just-”

You interrupt his latest attempt at leaving by pressing your lips harshly to his. His hands move swiftly, entangling in your hair.

“I love when you play with my hair,” You whisper in between breathing and kissing him again.

“Do you understand what you do to me?” Taehyung asks, hands still holding your head centimeters from his.

“So, stay, I want you to… it’s too cold outside.”

“It is much cozier in here, and if anyone asks, I can say that I tried,” He whispers, lips gently moving against yours as he speaks.

“Yeah, you tried. But it’s too cold outside,” You respond, eyes still closed.

“Mm,” Taehyung nods, recognizing the song you’re quoting.

“Baby,” You whisper, arms moving around his waist.

“Don’t,” He says closing the miniscule gap between you, lips capturing yours.


	16. Bah, Humbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All your good Christmases are coming to bite you in the ass.

**Bah, Humbug**

[Inspired by Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nud2TQNahaU&feature=emb_title)

You came in hot, snow covering your coat and a tear in your jeans. Your cheeks are red, too rosy for your liking, and your lips are cracked, a combination of windchill and lack of chapstick.

Stepping into Jimin’s apartment, you let out a frustrated grunt and throw your items on the ground. Jimin watches with surprise as you hurl your coat on top of your bag, kicking each boot off your foot violently.

You scream in frustration as you stare at your belongings, wet and bloody.

“Ah, Noona, are you okay?” Jimin asks.

“Fuck Christmas!” You yell, angry tears starting to fall.

“Noona,” Jimin is taken aback by your words. “It’s your favorite time of year!”

“Bah fucking humbug!” You snap, chapped hands wiping your tears away harshly.

“Baby,” Jimin is taking strides to you but you hold your hand up, stopping him.

“I’m serious, Jimin! Fuck Christmas. Fuck the holiday season,”

“Honey you had a bad day, you don’t mean it.”

“I do! I’m writing my letter to Santa: Dear Santa, I think I’m going to sit this one out. Deck the halls, decorate the tree, wrap the presents without me.”

“Baby, no,”

“Everything that could go wrong, _is_ going wrong, and I’m done. I’m done trying. I’m done participating. I’m done spending time on a commercialized holiday that means nothing because no one gives a fuck that Jesus is the reason for the season. So, fuck Christmas. I’ll see you next year.”

“Baby you can’t be serious,” Jimin is trying not to smile, he knows in your heart you are kidding, but the seriousness of your tone, the tears in your eyes, coupled with the blood dripping down your leg is forcing him to remain stoic.

“I haven’t even finished my to do list from last year!”

“It’s not about finishing your to do list,”

“I just feel so burned out, my cup doesn’t runneth over, it’s empty, dry, not a drop,”

“I have enough for both of us. Can’t we just celebrate?”

“No, Jimin, no. I don’t want a tree, I don’t want party lights or snow, don’t even get me started on snow! I just want to pass the holiday in silence, I don’t want to participate in it, I don’t want to be around it.”

“Did you fall?” Jimin’s voice is soft. His kind eyes and gentle lilt has you in tears again, sobbing, shaking tears. Jimin is quick to usher you to the couch before placing a kiss on your temple and getting the first aid kit from his bathroom.

“I love these jeans, I’ve had them for so many years, they’re my favorite! And stupid snow ruined them!” You can’t hold back the weeks of anguish bubbling up.

“I think it would be better if you just take them off,” Jimin suggests surveying the damage. Standing and shimmying out of your jeans is a sight to behold, and Jimin is trying everything in his mind to not laugh at the image. “I don’t have anything else to wear,”

“I can go to your place and get you something, you also maybe left a pair of sweats from last weekend,”

“When I spilled red wine on my Ivy Park sweat suit?” You ask, fresh tears falling again.

“Yeah, those,” Jimin is gently cleaning your wound, softly picking out a few pieces of gravel that tried to burrow into your flesh.

“Great, more evidence of my failures,”

“You’re not a failure,”

“Lies,”

“Honey, can you just, sit tight while I take care of this?” He asks, eyes staring pleadingly at yours.

“Fine, ruining my relationship, add that to the list,” You mutter.

“I thought you were too busy checking off items from last year?” Jimin chides.

“Fuck you,” You say, more venom than you intend. Jimin’s shaking his head, dark locks ruffling.

“You don’t mean that,” He says placing two fresh bandages on your knees before placing a gentle kiss to them.

“No, I don’t,” You confirm.

“Why don’t I go get your sweats and get you a drink, and we can stay on the couch and watch TV all night. You can order food and I won’t complain when we watch the same five Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes.”

“Can we start with _The Bet_?” Your voice is hopeful.

“We can start with whatever you like,” Jimin says placing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Jiminie?” You whisper, eyes wide.

“Hmm?” He asks, lips still pressed to your skin.

“I love you,” You state confidently.

“I love you too, Scrooge,” Jimin stands and winks before disappearing in his bedroom, rifling for the sweats you had nearly cried over ruining. You’d saved up for them, setting aside a little by little to buy the matching coral Ivy Park ensemble. You were devastated when the movie had startled you, and you spilled the liquid all over yourself. Jimin had laughed a little too hard before offering to clean your outfit. You let him, sinking into the couch underneath the mountains of blankets. You thought that was the low point of this Christmas season, but it was truly just a bump on your descent to the bottom.

You’d been dropping hints to Jimin about taking the next step in your relationship, of moving forward instead of remaining stagnant, so far, he hadn’t caught on. You were up for a promotion that went to a less qualified but more well-known coworker. Your presents to your parents had arrived broken, you’d fallen at least three times, each worse than the last, and your best friend is going through a nasty break up that you can’t guide her through. Oh, and your sister is pregnant for the first time and is nesting hard, making it even more difficult to be far from your family.

Christmas had always been kind to you, and it seems like it wanted to make up for too much good karma. Too many white Christmases, too many kisses underneath the mistletoe, too many holiday movies and Christmas cookies. Too much love, from your family, from your friends, from Jimin. May the baby Jesus bless Jimin, Jimin, kind of heart, gentle and kind, brilliant and giving and loving.

“Alright, here you go baby,” Jimin says handing you your coral ensemble.

“Jimin, did you buy me a new outfit?” Your eyes are unwilling to meet his, too busy scanning your outfit for the remnants of red wine.

“I, yeah, yeah I did,” He says trying to shrug it off.

“I, thanks?” You say standing. “I’ll be right back.” You disappear to the bathroom, taking stock of yourself in your new, stainless, coral sweat suit. You bite back the feeling of being mad, of being annoyed that he bought it for you when you were saving to replace it. Frustrated that in your weakest moments, Jimin was unfailingly sweet and kind.

“Jagi, are you going to stay in there all night?” Jimin’s propped himself opposite the bathroom door and leans against the wall, waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’m just,” You stop abruptly, no knowing he was so close and lower your volume. “I just needed a minute.”

“Okay, are you feeling alright?”

“Everything hurts from the innumerable falls I’ve had,” You say following him to the living room.

“Then let’s go sit,” Jimin says. He’s set out a few snacks and sparkling water for you both. He sits first, having turned on the TV show and waits for you to sit.

“Jimin, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” You say, feet beginning to root in the ground.

“Oh?” He asks, gentle eyes glossing with concern.

“I, I don’t want us to become stagnant,” Your voice is soft, too soft.

“Stagnant?”

“Unmoving, I want our relationship to move forward,” You clarify.

“Oh,” Jimin says, recognizing your subtext.

“And I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I think we should move in together,” Your voice is stronger as your sentence finishes, conviction strengthening.

“I do too,” Jimin says.

“What?” You ask, unsure you heard him right.

“I was going to ask you on Christmas, I know your lease is up soon, and I just, I want you here all the time, every minute of every day,” Jimin’s eyes are little moons as he beams at you.

“Well, I guess we better celebrate Christmas then,” You say shrugging, sitting down next to him.

“I thought you were going to sit this one out?” Jimin’s still smiling, laughter dancing in his eyes.

“I couldn’t miss this one, this year.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (did not edit thoroughly)


	17. Ain't Nothing Better Than This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow. Day.

[ **Ain't Nothing Better Than This** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZMsStZe7fE)

Inspired by Snow by Leslie Odom Jr

Ho-Seok rolls over to find the space next to him empty and surprisingly cold. Confusion in his sleepy eyes, he turns to look at his phone, 9:00 is imprinted on the screen. Ho-Seok’s not only shocked by the hour, but ever perplexed by the giggles and laughter echoing throughout the house. Standing too quickly, he steadies himself before slipping on his robe and acquiring his slippers. Treading down the wood stairs, Ho-Seok’s face is melting from confusion to utter concern.

“Jagi, don’t they have school?” He asks you, coming into the open kitchen.

“Good morning, to you,” You say leaning over the counter and placing a gentle peck on his sleep ridden lips. “Have you looked outside?”

“Appa, it’s a snow day!” Your oldest says, mouth partially full of pancakes.

“No school! No school!” Your middle child calls, sipping on their apple juice. Your youngest, only two, giggles and claps at their older siblings’ actions.

“I let you sleep in,” You say as Ho-Seok wraps his arms around your waist.

“You didn’t have to do that, jagi,” He says, kissing the delicate skin behind your ear.

“Well, you can repay me by letting me take an exceptionally long bath and taking care of dinner,” You counter, smile still on your lips.

“Appa can we make a snowman?” The eldest asks.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” Ho-Seok sings. “It doesn’t have to be a snowman!”

“Yeah, Olaf!” Your middle child declares.

“We can try, but only after we’ve cleaned up breakfast, brushed our teeth, and told Amma how much we love her,” Ho-Seok checks off their requirements, looking at your two eldest for confirmation.

“I hate cleaning,” Your middle child declares.

“Well then you don’t get to build a snowman,” You say to your middle child, who just pouts, a phenomenon they’ve picked up from Seokjin.

“Can we listen to music?” Your middle child asks.

“I can’t believe you had to ask!” Ho-Seok’s reaction is both over the top and completely appropriate. He reaches for his phone and is quick to turn on your favorite Christmas playlist. Soon it’s filling the house, and like a scene from Cinderella, everyone is pitching in to clean up. Except the two-year-old, who is babbling and giggling and drooling in Ho-Seok’s arms.

Taking a step back, you grab your coffee and watch the scene playing out. Ho-Seok, ever the mediator, is guiding your middle child, who at five years old neither resembles you or your husband, on how to put dishes in the dishwasher. Your eldest, all of eight years old, is busy collecting dirty dishes and separating them between what needs to be washed and what goes in the dishwasher. They’re the spitting image of you and Ho-Seok, hard work and dedication in every action.

“Alright, Amma, I’m going to hand you-

“Hi baby,” You say, taking your youngest. They’re quick to latch onto you, drool and barely cut teeth sinking into your shoulder as they giggle.

“We need to wash the dishes; here’s how we’re going to do it. There are the mixing bowls, the utensils and the skillet. I will wash the utensils. The two of you will split the other items, and together, by the time Amma comes back downstairs dressed to go outside, and after we listen to Jingle Bell Rock for a second time, we will have all the dishes done! Is that a plan?” Ho-Seok learned early on in your parenting that a set list of objectives, similarly to how he worked on an album, made the most sense to your children and gave you the best results.

“Team Jung!” Your second eldest called, a chant Ho-Seok had started when you were scurrying around, adapting to life with two children.

“Team Jung!” Your eldest’s voice was next.

“Team Jung!” Ho-Seok and you said in unison before departing for your tasks. Baby on your hip, you made your way upstairs into the children’s bathroom to clean up your littlest.

Ho-Seok loved morning likes this, unexpected days where you could follow your every whim, so long as you had a relative grip on when your kids needed to eat or nap. Days like this, snow days, were rare, and thus the need to make them more special than any other day fueled both you and Ho-Seok to make the best of the day. It was also days like this that made Ho-Seok grateful to be a father, grateful to raise _these_ kids with _you_ , grateful for all the love and bliss in your household.

“Appa, I think I’m done,” Your eldest says.

“Alright let me check,” Ho-Seok glances over the few dishes before giving a thumbs up, at which your eldest darts up the stairs to change, leaving him with your middle child.

“Appa, after we play in the snow, can we watch a movie?” They ask, slight lisp present in their /s/.

“And take a nap?” Ho-Seok adds.

“Yeah! Can I sit in your lap?” Their voice is small, hands stilled. In the five years your child had been on the planet, they’d managed to wreak havoc on every aspect of your life. If your eldest was quiet, they were screaming, if your eldest napped, they jumped on the bed. It was exhausting, challenging, and made you both question every choice you made as parents. Moments like this, or when you tucked them into bed, reminded both of you how much your child loves you.

“Absolutely, you get first dibs,” Ho-Seok says, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on their hair. “Let’s go upstairs and go brush our teeth, okay?”

“Yay!” They scream, jumping off their stool and running up the stairs.

Soon, the five of you are out in your yard, rolling snow and trying to build the biggest snowman possible. You’re watching your youngest, who is happy to roll in the frozen fluff, giggling outrageously whenever they lay eyes on you. Ho-Seok is managing your eldest’s, navigating their often-tenuous dynamic. The desire to pelt snowballs at each other wins out, and soon you’re engaging in a silly snowball fight where there are no teams, there is no score and the winners are the five of you, exhausted from laughing and running, piling into the house and up the stairs to take hot showers and baths before returning to the living room for snacks and a movie.

As you sit on one end of the couch, your eldest and baby curled into your side, Ho-Seok sits on the opposite, your middle child resting soundly on his lap, hands entangled with their fathers.

“This is the best part!” They whisper, eyes trained on the TV. Placing a gentle kiss on their head, Ho-Seok glances at you. Your youngest is fighting sleep while your eldest chomps on apple slices, and you sit between them, arm draped over your eldest’s shoulders, hand gently pushing the bangs off of your youngest’s forehead. You’re mesmerizing, and if Ho-Seok kept staring, he knows he’d see you looking at him the same way. On this snowy day, he’s grateful to be where the love is.


	18. That's Christmas To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Appa, what’s Christmas about?” The little voice comes padding into the living room, eyes trained on Yoongi’s figure, slightly hunched, glasses slipping, book in hand.
> 
> “What do you mean?” Yoongi asks, eying your child.

**That's Christmas To Me**

[Inspired by That's Christmas To Me ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFjdfjrtf1Q)

“Appa, what’s Christmas about?” The little voice comes padding into the living room, eyes trained on Yoongi’s figure, slightly hunched, glasses slipping, book in hand.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asks, eying your child.

“Why do people celebrate it?” They ask climbing on the couch.

“Depends, if they are religious, and believe in Jesus, then they celebrate the birth of Jesus,”

“It’s Jesus’ birthday?”

“Mm, kind of. It’s what they’ve decided is Jesus’ birthday.” Yoongi clarifies.

“But if it’s not Jesus’ birthday, why do they celebrate it?” They ask.

“That’s a question for Amma,” Yoongi says, nodding his head.

“You don’t think it’s Jesus’ birthday, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi shakes his head. 

“Why do you celebrate it?”

“People who don’t believe in Jesus, like me, think it’s just a holiday about giving presents. People choose to celebrate it, or they choose to ignore it.” Yoongi tells them.

“We celebrate it?” They ask.

“We do,” Yoongi nods.

“Why?” Their curiosity is Yoongi’s favorite part of fatherhood.

“Because Amma believes it’s Jesus’ birthday,” He answers.

“But you don’t?” The dots are slowly connecting.

“I don’t,”

“I don’t get it,” They say.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi reassures, tucking their hair behind their ear.

“Appa, what does Christmas mean to you?” Their eyes are wide, staring intently into Yoongi’s. He often finds it hard to stare that them, they’re like a mirror, reflecting him.

“That’s a good question,” Yoongi had long since put his book aside, knowing full well the minute your child shuffled into the living room, thirty minutes after their nap started, that reading was over. The delicate smile on their lips warmed Yoongi’s heart and was a telltale sign that your child had a question.

“What do you think it means?” Yoongi asks back.

“I asked you first Appa!” They giggle, leaning into Yoongi’s side. Instinctively he wraps an arm around them, pulling them close.

“For me, Christmas was always just a day. For some it was a day for presents, for others, like me, it was a day that I got paid extra at work. My coworkers would all take the day off, and before BTS, I needed the money, so I worked.”

“All day?” Your child’s eyes are wide.

“All day,” Yoongi nods.

“Did you get presents?” They inquire.

“A few small ones,” Yoongi says.

“No Santa?” They prod.

“Do you believe in Santa?” Yoongi counters.

“Not really,” They say, shaking their head.

“Mm, me either. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, or when I was a trainee, so it wasn’t a big deal,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Christmas means work?” There they go again, connecting the dots.

“For some people it does, because they have to,”

“But you don’t have to?” Yoongi can see the concern flash across their eyes, like they just realized their father wasn’t going to be home on Christmas.

“Not anymore, no.” Yoongi comforts.

“If Christmas doesn’t mean work… what does it mean?” The confusion drips from their tiny voice.

“To me, Christmas is about spending time together with the people you love,” Yoongi explains.

“Me and Amma and baby?” They list, each person being ticked off on a small finger.

“Yes, and sometimes your uncles too, or your grandparents,” Yoongi adds, ticking them off on his own.

“Sometimes we go on a plane!”

“Yeah, we go on a plane to see Amma’s family,” Yoongi adds.

“I like when we do that. Can we do that this year?” There is too much hope in their eyes.

“No buddy, we’re going for the summer, remember?” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, the potential tantrum or fit always in the back of his mind.

“Oh, and Christmas?” They wonder.

“No, not Christmas,”

“New Year’s?” They ask.

“No love, next year,” Yoongi says, slightly exasperated by the lack of understanding of _time_ and frankly, the word _no_.

Your child sits in their disappointment, Yoongi’s words lingering in their mind.

“I think Christmas is about wearing comfy pajamas and watching movies on the couch when I get to be stuck between you and Amma, and hot cocoa, and my Advent calendar,” Your child looks at Yoongi, who unbeknownst to them, has been staring, watching their mind work.

“What do you think it means to Amma?” Yoongi asks.

You can’t tell if he heard you open the door or saw your shadow pass as you tiptoe into the house. You pause, keys in hand, coat still on, listening to your husband and oldest child.

“Amma likes Christmas a lot… she likes the music and the cookies! Appa we have to have cookies!” The sudden burst of energy sends a laugh through Yoongi.

“Amma’s been making them,” Yoongi reminds them.

“Mm, can we have one?” Their hands are folded in prayer, or rather in please.

“For snack?”

“Yeah!”

“You gotta eat some veggies first,” Yoongi counters.

“Fine… Amma likes Christmas movies too,”

“Who does she like watching them with?”

“Me! And baby, and you, she likes you too,” They say, definite that you love Yoongi too.

Yoongi chuckles, “I’d hope so.”

“Does Amma like Christmas, or does she like spending time with family, like you?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Yoongi points and your child turns to see you padding into the living room.

“Hi honey,” You say moving to sit next to your child. They burrow into your side, happy to have you home.

“Amma, what does Christmas mean to you?” They ask, eyes wide, staring into yours.

“Is that the topic of conversation?” You glance between them and Yoongi, he hasn’t stopped smiling. He gives you a knowing look, a look that years of parenting has taught you the meaning of.

“Yeah, Appa says that it’s about family,” They say.

“Well he’s right,” You agree.

“He says you believe that it’s Jesus’ birthday.”

“I do, yes, what else did Appa tell you?” You ask.

“That we can’t see grandma until summer,” They tell you.

“Oh, that’s true,” You nod.

“That makes me sad,” They whisper.

“Me too, honey,” You agree, voice small, hating the acknowledge that you wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

“Christmas is about Jesus?”

“The whole Christmas season is called Advent,” You tell.

“Like my calendar!”

“Exactly, and it’s about hope, love, peace and joy. Each week you celebrate a new theme, leading to the birth of Jesus. It’s about preparation, preparing your heart and preparing your mind for the celebration of the birth of the savior.”

“Is that where Santa comes in?” They tilt their head to the side, unsure if their question made any sense to anyone but them.

“No, that’s where the wisemen and the shepherds and the angel chorus come in,” You correct.

“Oh, no Santa?”

“Santa was created to help spread cheer to people who didn’t have money or the opportunity to buy gifts, and he comes from a guy named Saint Nicholas,” You inform.

“Did he know Jesus?” They ask.

“Yes, because Jesus knows everyone,” You say, watching their eyes widen.

“Christmas is about Jesus,” They confirm.

“For me it is, but you get to choose what Christmas means to you,” You tell them.

“Can we read the story about Jesus?” Your child asks, staring at you. Yoongi has gone and come back with snacks, cut up veggies and snack mix for you and your oldest. The second time he disappears, he comes back with drinks in one hand, and your one-year-old in the other.

“Look who’s up,” He says, passing your youngest to you.

“Hi lovey,” You say, planting a kiss on their cheek. “Yoongi-ah, can you grab my bible from the shelf in the office?”

Yoongi nods before retreating to the study.

“You have to eat your veggies first,” You inform, reminding your child that Christmas cookies have to come second.

“That’s what Appa said,” They grumble, reaching for a cucumber.

“That’s because Appa and I share a brain,” You coo at your infant, who still has sleep in their eyes post afternoon nap. Not only does Yoongi arrive with your Bible, but he brings a bottle for the tot.

“Trade,” He hands you the Bible and takes the baby.

“Alright, the Gospel according to Luke, chapter 2,” You read, leaning against the back of the couch.

Your eldest continues to snack as you read, clarifying language like _decree_ and _heavenly_ _host_. You’ve promised to answer every question your child has after you’ve finished reading the story, and they are happy to abide by that as they slowly work their way through their veggies. As you read, you hope the words of the Gospel speak to your child as words of hope and comfort. That they are words to inspire, to strike a match in them. Maybe not this story, but maybe another. Sitting on the couch as a family unit, Christmas tree sparkling as the sun fades, your children safe within yours and Yoongi’s arms, you’re grateful that this is what Christmas truly means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I will finish Merry & Bright)   
> (I will finish Merry & Bright)   
> (I will)   
> (I will)   
> (Send good vibes)


	19. Did You Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first night in this dream of Bethlehem, you’d recognized your surroundings immediately. Hadn’t you read the story a thousand times? It wasn’t until the second night that you tried to intervene, to no avail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this.

**Did You Know?**

[Inspired by Mary, Did You Know? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE)

Dreams are often ways in which our minds process information. They manipulate people, they change the settings, they extort emotions for the sake of clarity. It’s your brains chance to reset every day. But for you, your dreams always pulled you further and further away from yourself. They took you deep into a forbidden forest or left you alone on a mountain top. As the holidays approached, you kept having one reoccurring dream… every night intensifying as if to signal an impending message, like an angel appearing to you.

Each evening as you drifted, you found yourself back in that same place, invisible to the people around you. The dust from the dirt road drifting around you, the smell of unwashed bodies and animals swelling around you. You always started in the same place, walking side by side as a donkey carried a pregnant woman, her husband knocking on every door asking for shelter, always being turned away.

Your first night in this dream of Bethlehem, you’d recognized your surroundings immediately. Hadn’t you read the story a thousand times? It wasn’t until the second night that you tried to intervene, to no avail. By the third, you’d progressed from the journey of Mary and Joseph to the shepherds, guarding their flock. On night four you awoke with a start, the angels having just appeared, trumpets blaring, Hallelujah chorus playing softly in the distance. When you finally reached night seven, and witnessed the birth of the baby Jesus, you were taken aback by the scene in front of you. For it wasn’t Mary and Joseph, but the Kim family, and baby Jesus was none other than Namjoon. Dream you jumped, scared and startled by the revelation. As you unwillingly awoke from your dreams, you couldn’t help but stare at your partner.

“Kim Namjoon, the great I am?” You asked yourself, unable register the meaning of your dream. It was on nights 9-14 that you discovered the parameters of your think space and began exploring the nativity scene, patiently awaiting the Wise Men to arrive from the east. Every night, you watched intently as the scene played out. Jesus, or Namjoon, being born, wrapped in swaddling cloth and laid in a manger. Every morning you awoke, less confused but still searching for meaning.

Namjoon wasn’t religious and had acknowledged that he believed there was no god. And yet, every night, you dreamt of him, his birth being proclaimed, the star guiding worshippers to his cradle.

You found yourself staring at Namjoon more and more, mind working as you looked at him, racing with questions and judgments. Wandering to uncharted territory that you’d dip your toe in, a step too far and you’d never come out, but enough that you could find your way back… back to him. Back to your body, back to this space, not Bethlehem, not Judea, but your apartment in Seoul. Namjoon would turn to you, calling your name or saying “jagi, come back”, knowing full well you had indulged your whims.

“Jagi, you’ve been acting, different,” Namjoon said one morning over coffee.

“I keep having this dream,” You said, staring at him.

“Oh?” He’d asked, sitting down and staring at you.

“It’s the same one, every night,” You told him, eyes still squinted as you recounted the events. “I, I don’t know why I’m having it, but it comes to me every single night,”

“Do you want to tell me what it is?” Namjoon asked.

“No, no, I haven’t figured it out yet,” You shook your head, eyes still confused. “When I figure it out, I will.”

That evening, you ventured to visit Namjoon’s parents for a celebratory dinner. They had many things to celebrate: Namjoon’s year of success, his definite return from military service, your impending engagement, and last of all, Christmas. Entering their home, you both bowed, acknowledging your elders before they pulled you both into a hug. The embrace was familiar, the house, familiar, the occasion for their dinner? Familiar. All you felt was an uncertainty, an imbalance within yourself. The dread that something was going to happen, and in the most outrageous parts of your mind, you wondered if Wise Men would arrive from the east, or if a star was shining down on the apartment complex, letting everyone know the great savior, Kim Namjoon, was here, eating dumplings with his family.

Retiring to the living room for dessert and drinks, you found yourself looking at old family photos with Namjoon’s mother, the tugging in your heart growing.

“Did you know?” You whispered, staring at Namjoon’s first Christmas photo.

“Did I know?” She asked you, eyes confused and staring into yours.

“Did you know that he, did you know that he would be,” You couldn’t get the words out. There were too many possibilities. 

  * Did you know that your baby boy would one day sing to millions?
  * Did you know that your baby boy Would travel the globe?
  * Did you know that your baby boy Would set records for albums sold?
  * Did you know that he’d earn _Hwagwan_ Orders of Cultural Merit before turning 27?
  * Did you know that he would speak to the United Nations General Council, twice?
  * Did you know that he’d help raise 1.4 million for UNICEF through the _Love Myself_ campaign?
  * Did you know that he would help donate over 2 million to Black Lives Matter?
  * Did you know that he’d have five consecutive albums chart at No. 1 on the Billboard 200?
  * Did you know that he’d have the most 1s in iTunes history?
  * Did you know that he would greet the President of Korea?
  * Did you know that he would lead the greatest band to grace the planet earth?
  * Did you know that despite your words, your hate, your misunderstanding of his career, would spur him on further?
  * Did you know?



Staring at her, your eyes filled immediately with tears. The possibilities, the potential, the endless universes that Namjoon could create and was creating… The drive, his push to be better than he was yesterday, to think about the moments he’s been happiest, to understand the complexities of the universe, to bring out the best in everyone, his perfectionism and depression be damned. The suffering he endured, the heartache, the failures, the never-ending self-doubt that what he was doing was right and just. His music reaching every nation. Namjoon, the sun and the stars at his disposal. Namjoon, the dimpled boy making a name for himself off of a Maple Story character. Namjoon, the mighty, Namjoon the brave, Namjoon, the great redeemer.

“Did you know he’d be…” Your voice was gone, emotion taking over as your eyes try to plead with her.

“No, I didn’t,” She said, hand reaching to rest over yours.

“Mary didn’t know either,” You whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I really love to write as much religious imagery as I can when Namjoon is involved)


	20. We're Happy Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Jungkook attend your nieces dance recital.

**We're Happy Tonight**

[Inspired by Winter Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIKt5p3UmXg)

Your family shuffles into the auditorium, your sister and brother-in-law at the helm, guiding the clan towards their seats. Jungkook’s hand is in yours, his eyes looking around at the high school theater, fabric covered seats from the 80’s, stale air and Christmas decorations made of butcher paper and glitter. You’re pulling him along, fully aware he’s lost in a state of reverie and comfort, happy to be experiencing so normal, and remembering the times in his youth that he was brought to theaters like this.

Sitting down, careful to extricate himself from his wool coat, Jungkook keeps his gloves on, hand tattoos covered as to not alert anyone of his identity. Your hand, knitted together with his, hangs gently off the arm rest. Your other opens and scans the program, looking for your nieces’ names in the dance descriptions.

Squeezing his hand lightly, you glance at him, his skin glowing in the soft florescent lights.

“How you doing?” You ask, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Good, excited,” He smiles. The glimmer in his eye is shining, does he know he still makes you nervous?

“You’re my favorite, you know that?” You say, giving a voice to the arthropods whose wings hadn’t stopped since he walked down the stairs, dress pants pressed, buttoned down revealing a little too much for the imagination.

“Mm, you’re my favorite too,” He replies, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your lips as the lights lower.

Hooting and hollering ensues, family cheering for their dancers, excitement and holiday merriment flooding from every person onto the stage. Red and white lights dance across the stage, revealing a group of teenagers, the swell of an instrumental Carol of the Bells fills the theater and soon, routine on pointe is being performed.

Jungkook is entranced by the dancing, gasping quietly when the lights shift, or a dancer lands a double pirouette. He’s squeezing your hand between routines; bunny smile never leaving his lips until the first routine containing your eldest niece begins. While he watched every other routine for the sake of joy, hoping they didn’t mess up, scared they would humiliate themselves like he had in his early days, he watched your niece with care. At this point in your relationship, they were no longer just your nieces, but shared amongst you and Jungkook. He loved them almost as much as you did, and he was beyond thrilled to finally be able to see one of their recitals in person.

“Whoa,” He exhaled as your niece danced across the stage, a well-choreographed contemporary routine to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, wherein Jungkook was mesmerized by the lines in the dancer’s leaps, the precision in their turns, the emotion that the ten-year-olds were conveying in an already charged song. He was impressed by their grace, their poise, their abandon as they moved in their coordinating outfits. Jungkook always had the option of being hypercritical, his perfectionism could tear him down to the sad little trainee that had wanted to quit when it got too hard. Watching your eldest niece, all he wanted to do was praise her.

“That was so good!” He softly exclaims, leaning over to whisper to your sister.

“She’s been practicing for weeks!” Your brother-in-law says a smile of pride on his lips.

“You know, I used to dance,” You say, voice low as the next group starts their routine.

“Jazz, right?” He whispers.

“Tap too,” You inform.

“Hmm,” He nods.

“And when I felt like it, a little BTS choreography,” You kiss his cheek gently. Jungkook giggles.

“Mm, I believe I have a drunken video of you and Jimin doing Boy with Luv somewhere,”

You snigger, you know exactly where that video is.

“It’s too bad that there isn’t a routine to the holiday mix of Dynamite,” You say turning to face the stage, eyes momentarily finished examining his side profile.

“You wouldn’t,” He responds, eyes glancing back at you, finally pulling himself from the stage.

“I’m just saying, seems like a missed opportunity for some ten-year-olds to bust out the old choreo,” You chuckle.

“You will pay for this,” Jungkook’s words leave a smirk on your lips, and you squeeze his hand again.

Glancing at the stage, you’re greeted by twelve little kids, all in black leggings and leotards, with scarves around their necks and Santa hats on their heads. You point out your youngest niece, all of five years old, ready to shuffle-step-heel to Winter Wonderland.

If you were honest, you hated recitals. While Jungkook could hide his perfectionism, you struggled to not judge and snipe. Watching five-year olds dance was not your idea of enjoyable, but you would do anything for your nieces, anything.

As the song bopped along, you watched your niece try and locate your family in the crowd. There was a strict no recording policy, and fortunately for your embarrassment, your family was abiding by the rule. Your niece, less precocious than her sister, craned her neck, curly hair pinned to the top, trying to find you. In a sea of people, the one person she found was Jungkook. After missing several steps due to her giving him her secret handshake, she turned to her peers and tried to pick up where she left off.

Jungkook was beaming, a sacred moment shared between them, imprinted on his heart. He couldn’t stop thinking about it as the show quickly finished, and your crew found themselves waiting patiently in the lobby, flowers in hand.

“What was your favorite?” You ask, arm wrapping around his waist.

“Hmm, definitely Winter Wonderland,” Jungkook responds.

“Because you secretly want to be a tap dancer?” You laugh.

“Hm, I’m surprised there wasn’t any hip hop thrown in,” Your brother-in-law wonders.

“What, no gyrating to All I Want for Christmas is You?”

“I just mean,” Jungkook blushes the lightest shade of pink.

“JK, I’m joking,” You smile.

“I know,” He returns it, watt for watt.

“Auntie!” You hear as your nieces come running towards you, your sister, slightly frazzled, behind them. “JK!”

They barrel into both of you, wrapping their arms around both of you. Jungkook picks up the youngest and scrunches his nose in excitement.

“You were so good! You have to show me some of those moves later, okay?” He asks. She nods in his arms.

“JK when will you teach me some choreography?” The eldest asks, arm around her father’s waist, head resting tiredly against his chest.

“Hmm, maybe this Christmas,” He answers. “What do you want to start with?”

“The holiday mix of Dynamite,” You answer, and your niece nods.

“Or Black Swan,” She says.

“Good choice,” He sets your niece down and turns to you, smiling. “Maybe your aunt would like to partake.”

“Hey, I can teach tap, the rest is all you Idol,” You wink at him as your clan begins to move out of the lobby and to the cars, tired from an evening of theater, ready for dinner and an endless supply of Christmas treats.

Jungkook is silent as you head towards your car, a moment of peace between you, saved for the fact that his eyes are heavy.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask.

“I was wondering,” He stops in the parking lot, turning to look at you, taking both hands in his. “Do you ever think, that maybe that will be us someday?”

“Dancing on a stage? Don’t you do that professionally?” You quip.

“I mean you and me, at our kids dance recital,” His eyes stay steady with yours.

“Oh,” You whisper, taken aback by his confession.

“In a few years, or sooner, maybe we start thinking about it,”

“Yeah, I want to, I want that,” You say, gaze trying to stay on his.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“But only with you, and only if at an early age we commit to teaching them the entire catalogue of-

Jungkook cuts off your teasing with a kiss, all lips and wanting, heat and desire as he pulls you close. To any outsider, it’s a beautiful sight, you and him, together, planning your future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I barely made it)


	21. I Could Care Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family holiday party and the man who's broken your heart one too many times.

**I Could Care Less**

[Inspired by Yule Shoot Your Eye Out ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SW3X7-gk8q0)

You had asked your parents for one thing for Christmas: Do not invite the Kim’s. It was simple, foolproof, just don’t invite them. Don’t tell them about the party, don’t mention it friends who might spill, if they see you at the store buying multiple bottles of wine, say you’re doing a wine tasting. Lie when needed, put their favorite child first. And don’t invite the Kim’s.

Being your parents, and far more cognizant of social etiquette and tradition, they had in fact invited the Kim’s. When they called to tell you all four of them were attending, you hung up abruptly and threw your phone at the wall, the screen protector cracking. All you wanted. No gifts. No money. Not even a reprieve from asking about your dating life or career plans, just don’t fucking force you to spend an evening dancing around the Kim’s.

Your mother had asked, again, if you really hadn’t moved past what had happened years ago, when as teenagers Seokjin had decimated, demolished, devoured, your heart. You laughed, how quaint of her to only remember the years the two of you spent falling in love and the utter rejection and humiliation he’d caused when he broke up with you at the start of university. How tragic that she didn’t know the years of turmoil that followed, the late-night texts, the sneaking off from the dorms to see you, the rushed kisses and snaps sent as he traversed the globe. In your parent’s eyes, a decade had passed and your holding onto whatever feelings you had had for Seokjin were very inappropriate.

But they didn’t know, and as the Kim’s walked into your family home, Seokjin in tow, your parents continued to be oblivious towards the tension that sucked all the air out of the room. Whatever plans you had at having only awkward interactions with Jin were dashed when you realized you couldn’t breathe around him. You couldn’t look at him, in his favorite sweater, hair slightly pushed back, height fully extended, and not want to break into a million pieces.

It hadn’t been a decade since you last saw Jin, it had been two months, when you’d gotten into a fight and screamed that you hoped you would never see him again, speak to him again, as long as you both lived. He had coldly asked you what would happen at Christmas, when your parents threw their annual shindig.

“Don’t fucking come home for Christmas, Jin. You’re the last thing I want to see under the tree,” You snapped, slipping your clothes back on and quickly tying your shoes.

“What if I’ve already gotten you a gift?” He asked, eyes scanning your newly clothed form.

“You want to give me a gift? Bury yourself alive.”

You left then, slamming the door, blocking his number and sobbing your entire way home and the next eight weeks as time proved it did not solve everything.

Now, staring at you from across the living room, stands Seokjin, the man who had your heart, the man who you declared you didn’t fucking care if he lived or died.

Grabbing a drink, you maneuver your way out of the living room, past a group of friends who were eager to say hi to you, and outside to the backyard. Standing on the patio, the frigid air swirling around your bare arms and legs, you sipped your cocktail. The cool air was a welcome change from the heat radiating in your body, the embarrassment that you couldn’t control your emotions, and the conversation you were going to have with your parents tomorrow.

“How long are you going to avoid me?” Seokjin asks, stepping outside.

“For as long as we both shall live,” You reply.

“I’ve tried calling you,” He says, keeping a distance from you.

“I asked for one thing, Seokjin, one fucking thing.” You spat.

“I couldn’t skip Christmas,” His voice is soft, asking for understanding.

“Why not?” You roll your eyes, he can tell.

“Y/N, why are you being so-

“What? Stubborn? Insolent? A bitch?” You turn on your heel and stare at him.

“Hey-

“No, Jin, no, you don’t get to do this, I told you I didn’t want to see you, or talk to you, and you haven’t respected that at all,” You remind him.

“I want to talk to you, we’ve never gone this long without speaking,” He replies, his eyebrows setting as he tries to convey his hurt.

“Are you forgetting your first semester in college, right after you broke up with me?” You ask, incredulous.

“I didn’t break up with you,” Seokjin says, eyes glancing at the ground beneath you.

“Oh no, that would’ve been far too kind,” You say.

“I, I thought we talked about this.”

“Seokjin, when have we ever talked about this? In the decade since, when have you said ‘Hey, let’s talk about what happened’?” You inquire. “Did I miss something?”

“I’m saying it now,” He shrugs, eyes rising to meet yours again.

“It’s too fucking late!” You say, voice rising.

“Then can we talk about what happened two months ago? Please,” He steps closer to you, eyes pleading.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. You made it pretty clear that whatever this is,” You motion between the two of you, “isn’t going anywhere. I’m nothing more than a fuck buddy to you, and I’m tired of it. I’m tired of acting like we haven’t been in love with each other since we were sixteen. I’m tired of being the girl that gets all your texts and phone calls and gifts while you’re away, and then when you come back, is only called when you’re horny. I’m tired of acting like I don’t love you with my whole existence, like I don’t want a family with you, and a marriage. I’m so fucking tired of being _used_ Jin. I’m tired of crying by my phone, hoping you’ll fucking call to talk to me instead of scheduling a fuck session. I don’t fucking deserve this.”

Your words hang in the air, and with them gentle sobs as you try to wrap your arms around yourself to find some warmth. Jin wishes he was wearing a coat, he would give it to you. He could take off his sweater, but you won’t take it.

“I want all of those things too, I want them all. I just-

“You can’t. Your hands are tied. We’re already risking so much. Everything is on the line; we’re playing with fire,” You recite the words he’s spoken to you with precision. “I have been hurting and putting up with this for a decade. When are you going to fucking understand that?” 

“I can’t do anything. The contracts are signed, the dies been cast, I can’t do anything,” Jin’s pleading with you, _please, take anything, anything that keeps us together, anything that stops the heartbreak that’s already cascading like a fucking avalanche._

“Then don’t fucking try and contact me again,” You say, pushing past him and moving into your house.

“Y/N,” He calls.

“No Jin, no. I’m done. I’m already crying at my parents Christmas party, my favorite party of the year.” Your punctuated last syllables hit him the hardest, you’ve always looked forward to this evening. Every year, you planned for weeks what you would wear, what new treat or crowd favorite you were going to make, and every year, for nearly a decade, Seokjin and you would spend the evening dancing under the mistletoe and sneaking booze when no one was watching.

“Remember when we would sneak booze up to your room? Or when we’d take an entire pie up and sit against your bed, eating it with one fork?” He tries to smile at you, tears already leaking from his eyes.

You pause in front of him, the finality of this moment written in your eyes.

“I really hope you cry yourself to sleep this year,” You say, turning and running up the stairs, leaving Seokjin alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (We've hit the point where I'm scraping the barrel... and I love this song, and I love this Drabble)


	22. Santa Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret Santa for the Boys of Bangtan.

**Santa Baby**

[Inspired by Santa Baby ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk_GmhD053E)

“Alright, we have to draw names,” Namjoon says, glancing from member to member.

“Aye, why are we doing this?” Yoongi asks, sipping on his iced coffee.

“It’s fun!” Jimin replies.

“It’s annoying,” Yoongi mutters.

“Well you don’t have to participate, you can get nothing for Christmas,” Seokjin says.

“Everyone write your name on your piece of paper and fold it in half,” Namjoon sits down next to Ho-Seok, who nods, eager to play.

“Are we doing three small gifts or one big gift?” Jimin asks.

“One gift,” Taehyung picks.

“Any words for three gifts?” Namjoon asks.

“Are we doing a price limit?” Jungkook asks.

“No?” Taehyung questions.

“we’re only getting one member a gift, I don’t think we need a limit,” Ho-Seok responds, folding his paper.

“I agree,” Seokjin says.

“Nothing too extravagant,” Yoongi says.

“Whoever Yoongi gets should prepare to be disappointed,” Seokjin says laughing.

“Can we draw?” Namjoon says, gathering all the papers. He takes the hat of Jungkook’s head and drops the little secrets in, scrambling. “Youngest to oldest.”

Jungkook claps his hands together, laughing at the annoyed look on Jin’s face, and Yoongi’s eye roll.

“If you get yourself, put it back,” Yoongi says, “That’s cheating.”

“How?” Taehyung asks as he picks his piece.

“You can buy yourself something any day,” He explains.

“It’s no fun if you pick yourself,” Jimin adds. He quickly picks his paper and opens his paper, smiling instantly.

“Jiminie’s giving it away!” Seokjin yells.

“No I’m not!” Jimin yells.

“You are! That smile!” Jin points his finger at him.

“I’m just happy,” He shrugs.

“Oo!” Ho-Seok says as he reads his name.

“Alright, everyone got a name?” Namjoon asks, sitting down to look at his.

“When are we exchanging?” Yoongi asks.

“After the MAMAs and MMAs, and our performance on KBS world,” Taehyung says.

“When’s the last day we’re together?” Jungkook asks.

“The 23rd?” Yoongi asks.

“I think so,” Jin agrees.

“Okay, the 23rd at the dorms,”

“Dinner?” Seokjin suggests.

“Yes,” They all nod, agreeing.

Without further delay, they moved on to other matters of business and eventually rehearsal for their numerous stages.

Yoongi was the first to find his secret Santa gift, a watch that instantly reminded him of the Namjoon. It was something Namjoon would stare at, making calculated decisions whether to buy it or not. It was a bit extravagant in its platinum face and leather band, the moon phase a touch he knew Namjoon would appreciate. Yoongi had noticed the leader’s affinity for time pieces and was sure this was going to hold a special place in his collection.

Yoongi smugly carried the package to his apartment, hiding it away in a drawer he knew no one, meaning Jimin or any of the Maknae line, would look in. He’d opted for gift wrap, making it nearly impenetrable to their sly fingers.

Namjoon was beyond thrilled when he pulled Ho-Seok’s name from the hat. Shopping for him would be easy, Ho-Seok was excited about all presents, and any amount of thought would go a long way with him. Taking the easy way out with gifts was never Namjoon’s style, and as he sat in his room, writing an email to Bang about what he wanted to do for Ho-Seok, he was happy to know that this thoughtfulness was being put to use. Joon wanted to get Ho-Seok a set of classes with a few different choreographers that were big in Korea and the States. He was constantly pushing himself but finding time to actually meet with a choreographer outside of their usual set was rare. Namjoon knew it would push him out of his comfort zone, and that is exactly what he wanted. That, and a new pair of sneakers for Ho-Seok to dance it, maybe with his nickname on it, in neon…

Ho-Seok knew exactly what to get Taehyung. He’d been planning it for months, hoping that when they pulled Secret Santa names, he could enact his two-part Birthday plan. The first was a stunning Gucci coat that Taehyung had looked at, but never purchased. Its ostentatious green velvet mixed with delicate pink and brow flowers would look striking against his features, and Ho-Seok had diligently watched for his size to come in. Not only had he purchased the coat, but he’d found a seamstress who could make a matching jacket for Yeontan. Not of the same Gucci fabric, but a green velvet that coordinates. Taehyung was going to lose his mind when Ho-Seok gave him the companion on his birthday, as well as a special Vinyl of his first mixtape that he had asked Bang to make.

Taehyung had struck gold. Who was easier to buy for than Jungkook? No one, except maybe Namjoon. The problem with Namjoon was that he had an idea for what he wanted, a level of thoughtfulness that he hoped someone would match. No matter how thoughtful, it wasn’t enough. Jungkook, though, was happy to be included, happy to feel seen, grateful that any of his hyung’s would take the time to spend money on him and take the time to find something thoughtful. Taehyung kept a list of ideas in his phone for each member’s birthdays. September-December were always rough, an ungodly number of performances and stages, and 5 birthdays, his included. It became easier to just keep a list, organized by member, which he could return to for any gift giving holiday. When he had an idea, he jotted it down, as to not forget it. This year, having drawn Jungkook, he was happy that his list of ideas for his only maknae was too long. New work out gear, his favorite Korean books in English to practice his reading skills, beginners guide to cooking, a pair of silk pajamas, a commissioned piece of art that Taehyung knew wasn’t going to be ready in time, and numerous other items. Thinking about Jungkook’s growth in the last few months, Taehyung optioned for the books and a few new pieces of work out clothing. Practical and thoughtful to match Jungkook’s sensibilities. 

Jungkook was beyond thrilled to pull Seokjin’s name, simply because he had one too many gifts from Jin’s recent birthday, and he was blessed that he hadn’t had to go out and hunt something down in the midst of their rigid performance and rehearsal schedule. Instead, he re-wrapped the gift, a new set of cooking knives and a fancy cutting board with his initials engraved, in Christmas wrapping and set it under the tree in the dorms. Namjoon had placed labels with their names on them, which said:

_To: Jin_

_From: Secret Santa_

He had had them printed at the office, a foolproof way of ensuring no one knew who picked who and left them precut and ready to be placed on the present.

Jungkook’s was the first gift to be placed, making the already pathetically dressed tree look a little less pathetic.

Seokjin spent the next ten days trying to find something perfect for Jimin. What could he possibly purchase for the man who gave some of the most thoughtful gifts? He’d racked his brain for something new, exciting, that Jimin would like. A coat? A bougie sweatshirt? Tickets to an event? What possibly could he find that would appeal to Jimin’s sensibilities? Why hadn’t Namjoon requested everyone make a list? That would’ve been more helpful. A list would give him an idea, a direction to go in… Instead, Seokjin wandered the mall after hours, his team having rented space for him. It was by chance that he stumbled into the bookstore, and pure serendipity that he found a display of coffee table books. Looking through the stack, two books stood out: Revelations about the Alvin Ailey famed piece, and The Art of Movement by Deborah Ory. Jimin was a dancer first and foremost, and Jin was excited by the prospect of his reaction to these presents.

Jimin had paid a little too much attention to Yoongi in the last nine months, not enough that Yoongi had noticed, but enough that Jimin knew the minutes he pulled his name what to get him. A new electric guitar, top of the line. Yoongi had been spending the last year or so learning acoustic, on a fairly new all black, simple, to the point, guitar. No frills, no flares, nothing. While Jimin knew Yoongi loves the guitar, he wondered if a little nudge would help him get into electric guitar. Jimin used his resources to scour the world for a perfect electric, before settling on a small batch, vintage piece from the 1950s. In good condition, strings new, the guitar was breathtaking. Jimin bought a new case for it, lined in crushed black velvet, with Yoongi’s name embossed on the side.

As the 23rd approached and more gifts filtered under the tree, the seven men looked grateful. Grateful that they’d each taken the time to purchase something for one another, grateful that they believed in one another to find something special for them, grateful they believed in themselves and the love they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (it's only okay)


	23. Golden Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s no longer a question of if, or a question of when. This is their last Christmas as a group of 7 for who knows how long. A decade? Five years? Seven?

**Golden Days**

[Inspired by Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rnEqv8WcVq8)

The dorms are decorated minimally, a small fake tree and a few decorations strewn about signal the impending Christmas holiday, the scent of pine wafts through the kitchen and living room, the scent a welcome reprieve from the mundane aroma of their living quarters. The seven men sit tucked on the couch, blankets and pillows abounding, drinks sat on the coffee table, snacks loosely placed in bowls and on plates, tiredness in their bones, hearts light with the ability to tuck their troubles away for a few days off.

“Taehyungie, just pick a movie!” Yoongi chides, annoyed at how long it’s taking.

“Aye, be patient!” Taehyung calls, leaning forward to give his hyung a look.

They’d decided a Christmas movie, nothing to sappy and romantic, something funny. Yoongi had suggested Die Hard, which earned much approval before Taehyung reminded them it was his turn to pick. He’d been laboring over the film, looking at every platform and the options they had. He’d narrowed it down to three and was trying to ascertain what they were really in the mood for.

“Do you remember our first Christmas together?” Jimin asks, leaning back against the couch, watching Tae aimlessly scrolling through films.

“Yeah, we didn’t do much,” Namjoon says.

“We went home.” Ho-Seok answers.

“Do you remember the years when we didn’t do anything but hug goodbye and leave the dorms?” Yoongi asks.

“You mean our first few years?” Ho-Seok asks.

“That’s how Yoongi-ah wants Christmas to be, no gifts just a hug!” Seokjin laughs.

“But he’ll skip the hug, just a goodbye!” Jimin giggles.

“Christmas was never too big to us,” Namjoon redirects.

“We couldn’t afford presents for each other,” Ho-Seok reminisces, “We had no money, Bang had no money, we were scraping by.”

“Then our third year, when we had a little change, we set a low limit,” Seokjin tells.

“We did Secret Santa because that’s all we could afford,” Namjoon confirms.

“Seokjin gave me a free home cooked dinner, that was the gift!” Taehyung smiles. “He made my favorite.”

“Very lucky, a personalized meal by the best chef in BTS,” Seokjin says.

“And when we started making it,” Jimin adds.

“We had more money,” Yoongi finishes.

“But we had more obligations, more performances,” Namjoon counters.

“It hasn’t really slowed down, it’s gotten worse,” Jungkook says.

“It probably won’t,” Ho-Seok shrugs.

“Until never mind,” Jimin says shaking his head.

“Say it,” Yoongi pushes.

“Until we start going into service,” Jungkook fills in. They all take a moment to pick the weight up, placing it heavily on their shoulders. Yuletide spirit gone as reality cascades over them. Taehyung sits on the couch between Jungkook and Jimin, knowing full well the Maknae line will all end up cuddling throughout the film. The opening title sequence of _The Santa Claus_ begins playing, the weight of Jungkook’s words still hanging between them.

“I’ve never seen this,” Ho-Seok mutters.

“Me either,” Yoongi says.

“It’s really good,” Namjoon says.

It’s not until thirty minutes in, when Tim Allen is tossed in the sleigh, being jolted toward the North Pole that Taehyung pauses the film.

“Is this our last Christmas?” He asks.

For seven chaotic men who have spent nearly a decade living together, working together, seeing each other 360 days of the year, they are surprisingly quiet. It’s the second time that evening, and one of a handful of times where one of them has said something absolutely devastating. They’d made it through Ho-Seok quitting, Jungkook wanting to quit, the 2018 dialogues and speeches of disbanding, Yoongi announcing he was having surgery, the first time they appealed to have military service postponed, and now this.

“We might have next year,” Namjoon responds.

“It’s not a guarantee, it depends when they make Jin-hyung start,” Yoongi says.

“It’s our last Christmas,” Ho-Seok states.

It’s no longer a question of _if_ , or a question of _when_. This is their last Christmas as a group of 7 for who knows how long. A decade? Five years? Seven?

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Jungkook says, looking at his hyungs. The look in his Bambi eyes proves otherwise, they’d all thought of it, unwilling to say it, unwilling to give it any space in their minds. 

“You’re the one going to be left,” Yoongi says.

“Aye, not by myself!” Jungkook protests.

“No, but you’ll have the most Christmases without all of us,” Yoongi informs him.

“That’s scary,” Taehyung whispers. “I don’t like the thought of Jungkookie alone,”

“You’ll be with him,” Namjoon reminds him.

“Not if he goes with me,” Jimin counters, “We’re the same age, makes sense we’d go together.”

“What if JK comes with us?” Taehyung wonders.

“He could, but you still won’t be together,” Yoongi pushes.

“Neither will you and Hobi!” Jimin shoots back.

“Aye, no use in fighting,” Seokjin says.

“We’ll be out before you go,” Yoongi says to Jimin.

“I don’t want to spend Christmases without you,” Jungkook whispers, his doe eyes staring blankly at a moment in time, a moment he’s trying to freeze, to prolong so he can memorize it.

“You spend Christmas at home with your family, it’ll be the same,” Seokjin reminds him.

“No, it won’t,” He glances at his brother, eyes beginning to pool. “It will never be the same, again.”

“He’s right,” Namjoon says. “We’ll come back at different times; we’ll be different people. Maybe we’ll start dating, finding partners… What will the world look like the next time we’re celebrating Christmas, together?”

“Kids, there could be kids…” Jimin adds.

“Will we even be a band anymore?” Seokjin asks.

They sit in silence, refusing to make eye contact with one another. What would it be like, to come back from service, and not have your bandmates, brothers, waiting for you? For Army to have moved on, for your records to sit, collecting dust, no longer carrying the weight of your historic rise to the top?

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook says, tears willingly falling.

“We signed our contract, another 7 years,” Namjoon reminds them.

“But in seven years, will Jungkook be out?” Taehyung asks.

“Will we be together again?” Jimin wonders.

“What if we make a pact?” Namjoon suggests. “If the fates allow, Christmas 2027, we’ll be together, at Jungkook’s house, for a Christmas celebration.”

“Aye, why mine?” Jungkook asks.

“Maybe we start a new tradition, every year one of us hosts a Christmas gathering, for the seven of us, and when we have partners, them too. Every year we rotate who hosts,”

“I like that,” Jimin says.

“Why do I have to go first?” Jungkook repeats.

“You’re the youngest,” Seokjin says.

“Namjoonie’s the leader,” Jungkook says, eyes wide.

“Fine, I’ll host,” Namjoon says. “Then Jungkook the next year.”

“We should do something special tonight,” Ho-Seok suggests.

“Staying up all night and watching movies?” Yoongi offers.

“No, something more fun.”

“Christmas karaoke?” Namjoon proposes. The groans disappear underneath the cheers, and soon all 7 are running around the dorms trying to find festive clothing and props, discussing giddily what song they’ll sing. They knew, though their Christmases together were limited, their golden years slowly passing, they would always pull one another close to have a merry Christmas.


	24. I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When is the next flight?” Yoongi asks, glare staring at the airport attendant in front of him. Taehyung stands next to him, bag resting gently on the floor, cellphone in hand.

**I Promise**

[By Christmas Eve - John Legend ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5RSSRG4fjw)

“Are you fucking serious?” Namjoon’s voice is low, hushed in the slightly crowded airport lounge.

“When is the next flight?” Yoongi asks, glare staring at the airport attendant in front of him. Taehyung stands next to him, bag resting gently on the floor, cellphone in hand.

In seats across the way, Jimin and Ho-Seok sit, thumbs moving hastily as they text. Seokjin, sits with their managers, discussing solutions, and Jungkook is by the window, phone to his ear, disappointment in his posture.

“I know, I know,” Jungkook says, voice weary. “I’m trying jagi, I am.”

It’s the sound of Namjoon’s hand slamming against the wall that brings them all together, moving into a private room in the lounge, seated staring at one another.

“We were supposed to be home by now,” Ho-Seok says, frustration deep in the stoop of his eyebrows.

“I know,” Namjoon answers.

“It’s our first married Christmas,” Jungkook adds, stuffing his tattooed covered hands in the pocket of his sweats.

“It’s my child’s first Christmas!” Taehyung declares, aghast that anyone was missing anything nearly as important as him.

“I was supposed to take the kids for Christmas photos,” Namjoon says.

“I was going to propose,” Yoongi adds, voice low.

“What?” Ho-Seok yells.

“Why are we just hearing about this?” Taehyung asks.

“Do you have a ring?” Namjoon wonders.

“You’re involved with someone?” Jimin pokes. Yoongi glares at him, knowing full well Jimin knows the answer.

“On Christmas Eve, while we opened presents. Had it all planned for months, the ring is wrapped, it’s sitting under the fucking tree,” Yoongi explains.

“Won’t she notice a ring box?” Jimin asks.

“No, I put it in a larger box,” Yoongi’s humoring him, and Jimin knows.

“A box inside a box?” Jungkook laughs.

“Sort of,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Damn, how many years has it been?” Seokjin asks.

“Five,” Yoongi recounts each anniversary in his mind. The first one, spent on different continents during tour, the second, when they’d flown to New York for press, the third, when you’d gone to Paris, the fourth, when he’d finally convinced you to move to Korea half time, and the fifth, when you’d discussed marriage.

“Service time counts,” Ho-Seok adds.

“Fine, seven,” Yoongi tells them. Technically, years four and five were shared in your hearts only, Yoongi being a desk jockey in the military, but you counted them, nonetheless.

“Wow, never imagined Yoongi-ah would settle down,” Jimin laughs.

“Who would’ve thought?” Namjoon chuckles, staring at his elder.

“You all are trash,” Yoongi says. “None of you are invited to the wedding.”

“How do you know she’ll say yes?” Taehyung asks, eyes wandering around the sterile lounge.

“I know,” Yoongi confirms.

“But how, are you psychic?” Seokjin wonders.

“No, she told me,” Yoongi tells him.

“She told you?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Yoongi scolds, cheeks puffed as he smiles.

“Alright, alright,” Jin resides.

“Tae, what are you plans for baby’s first Christmas?” Yoongi asks, deflecting.

“And baby’s first birthday,” Namjoon adds.

“He’s so cute, oh my gosh, he just teeters on his little feet, trying to walk. He’s taken a few steps, but he only likes walking if you hold his tiny little hands,” Taehyung gushes, opening the photos on his phone to show them.

“We’ve seen the videos,” Namjoon laughs, looking again at the numerous photos Taehyung has of his son.

“Don’t act like we haven’t seen a million from you,” Jimin says elbowing Namjoon. “You’re just as shameless.”

“You just have more kids, so it seems less obnoxious,” Yoongi says.

“Two for the price of one!” Seokjin laughs.

“Don’t think we don’t have the same reaction to yours,” Ho-Seok laughs at Jin. “You might be the worst out of you three.”

“Oh, just you wait, Hobi, it’s coming for you too,” Namjoon points at Ho-Seok.

“Who will have kids next?” Taehyung asks, looking from man to man.

“Jungkook,” Jimin blurts. His eyes go wide, and he turns to the maknae.

“Or Ho-Seok,” Jungkook says trying to deflect.

“No, no, Jungkook, why are you blushing?” Namjoon asks.

“No reason just wasn’t paying attention,” Jungkook tries to brush it off, but Namjoon’s got him.

“Is she pregnant?” Ho-Seok asks, eyes wide.

“I, maybe, I don’t know,” Jungkook tries to burrow himself in his sweatsuit.

“Holy shit!” Yoongi exclaims, glancing to make sure no one else has heard his expletive.

“Are you surprised the golden maknae is procreating before you?” Seokjin asks glancing at Yoongi. 

“No, I’m not surprised at all, my money was on Jungkook,” Yoongi says still smiling.

“It’s, it’s too soon to tell anyone, we’ve only told our parents,” Jungkook blushes, knowing he’s going to be in trouble when his wife finds out he squealed.

“Ah, discretion,” Seokjin nods. “We’ll pretend we’re not excited for you.”

“Hobi, what about you?” Jimin turns the attention to someone else, feeling guilty about spoiling Jungkook’s news.

“Ah, kids are a few years off for us,” Ho-Seok nods, twirling the wedding band on his finger. “Jiminie, what about you?”

“Me?” Jimin asks pointing to himself.

“You started this nonsense,” Namjoon reminds him.

“I, no, no babies, no engagement,” Jimin shakes his head.

“Why not?” Taehyung asks. “You’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, but talking and following through are two different things,” Jimin says. They all nod, knowing full well Jimin was going to get engaged shortly after Yoongi, Taehyung was surprised Jimin hadn’t already proposed, particularly because everyone thought Yoongi would be the last one to get married.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here,” Jungkook says again, glancing at the window. “Isn’t this why we stopped traveling before Christmas?”

Six years ago, when Namjoon had welcomed his first child, the band decided they would never travel over Christmas again, refusing to part from their growing families. They turned down any work outside the city, including New Years. If some program wanted them, they either wanted their entire families or they wouldn’t have BTS at all. It was a hard and fast rule, which in the six years since Namjoon became a father, they hadn’t broken.

Tonight, stranded in an airport in a place none of them could recognize, at least 1000 miles away, they were regretting agreeing to perform for the KBS special anywhere other than Seoul, or within two hours drive from their homes. So, they sit, December 23rd, unconvinced they were going to be home by Christmas Eve, unsure if they were going to be home by Christmas.

“I would walk home,” Ho-Seok says, sinking in his chair.

“I would run,” Jimin counters.

“I’d cross the deserts,” Jungkook says.

“And the oceans,” Taehyung adds.

“A fucking frozen tundra,” Yoongi states.

“If only there was a guiding light, a star, guiding us home,” Namjoon says.

“She does so much for us, for our family, and here I am, sitting in a luxurious airport, while she’s home with the kids,” Seokjin says.

“She hasn’t even hung the Christmas lights, we were going to decorate the tree together,” Yoongi says. “You know how much she loves Christmas.”

“I feel like we should go into the gift shops and buy something,” Ho-Seok suggests.

“What are we going to find?” Jungkook wonders.

“Wine,” Namjoon says. 

“Candy,” Jungkook suggests.

“Oo, candy,” Ho-Seok laughs, his first laugh in the last few hours.

“She does everything, she’s the glue of our whole family,” Namjoon says.

“Maybe we’ll go on vacation, somewhere warm,” Seokjin ponders.

“We should take a big family vacation!” Taehyung suggests.

“No,” Yoongi shuts it down.

“It could be fun!” Ho-Seok tries to support him.

“How about those who have kids go on one vacation, and those without go on their own,” Yoongi counters.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Seokjin asks.

“I’m tired, my proposal is going to shit, and I’m missing decorating my home with my future wife,” Yoongi lists.

“I can’t believe they have no hotel rooms anywhere near by,” Ho-Seok wonders.

“Maybe if we wish upon a star we’ll make it home by tomorrow,” Jungkook suggests.

“This is the first Christmas we’ve spent just us, just us seven, in what, a decade?” Taehyung inquires, looking at each of his brothers.

“Since we all came back from service,” Namjoon answers.

“We should honor that,” Ho-Seok agrees.

“We’ll be with our families as soon as we can,”

“Life goes on,” Jungkook sings softly.

“We’ll be home by Christmas Eve, swear it,” Taehyung’s attempt at inspiring them is what they need.

“Should we go find food and treats?” Jungkook suggests.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon says.

“And any souvenirs we can find from this place,” Ho-Seok reminds them.

In a small gift shop, Yoongi and Jimin stare at the chip selection.

“You should propose whenever you want,” Yoongi says to Jimin.

“Thank you hyung,”

“I don’t want to steal your thunder, you’ve been planning longer than me, do it when it feels right,” Yoongi glances at Jimin, slightly taller than him, and smiles.

“Thank you,” Jimin smiles, grateful for the unnecessary permission.

As they gather back in the lounge, snacks and gummy worms plentiful on the newly cleaned airport table, the seven of them share laughs over silly things their kids have said and reminisce on the years they’ve spent together. Through it all, with the weight of uncertainty waning, they had a glimmer of hope, a little belief, that they’d be home by Christmas Eve.


	25. Happy Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 24th, Christmas Eve, is an anniversary that Min Yoongi holds dear to his heart. In a decade, he’s never missed it, never missed acknowledging it, or sending a small present to the person with whom he shares the holiday. Every year, without fail, despite schedules and obligations, family and performances, Yoongi found the time to take his best friend to dinner. 

**Happy Anniversary**

December 24th, Christmas Eve, is an anniversary that Min Yoongi holds dear to his heart. In a decade, he’s never missed it, never missed acknowledging it, or sending a small present to the person with whom he shares the holiday. Every year, without fail, despite schedules and obligations, family and performances, Yoongi found the time to take his best friend to dinner. 

This year, shoulder tethered to his body, Yoongi was staring at Ho-Seok through his computer screen.

“This is the first Christmas eve we haven’t spent together,” Ho-Seok says.

“I know, it makes me almost, sad?” Yoongi offers.

“You’ve been missing a lot, could be sadness from other things,” Ho-Seok tries to comfort him, though he knows his words are futile.

“Yeah, a combination of all the sadness and then spending Christmas, _here_ , and New Years, _here_ ,” Yoongi sips his water.

“You came by after our Grammy nomination,” Ho-Seok sips his drink, Yoongi clocks the bubbles, it’s most likely Sprite.

“But with the utmost care, and then I wasn’t allowed out for another two weeks,” Yoongi grumbles.

“You had a mini quarantine?” Ho-Seok smiles.

“This whole experience is quarantine. The only person I see besides my family is the physical therapist,” Yoongi tells him.

“But you still made time for me,” Ho-Seok laughs.

“Of course I did,” Yoongi answers him, smile pulling over his gums. “Have I ever forgotten?”

“No, you haven’t, not in what, nearly ten years?” Ho-Seok asks.

“Yeah, something like that.” Yoongi nods.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Ho-Seok inquires.

“You ask that every year,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, a light smile on his lips.

“And?” Ho-Seok presses.

“And every year I tell you the same thing,” Yoongi responds, taking a sip of his water.

“You were dazzled by my personality,” Hobi laughs.

“Mm, something like that,” Yoongi’s embarrassed, just like every year. No matter how many times Ho-Seok poses the question, no matter how many years he asks, Yoongi is always flushed when recounting their first meeting. “We were babies.”

“I was so naïve,” Ho-Seok chuckles.

“You still are,” Yoongi counters.

“You aren’t much better, you are a little softer,” Ho-Seok laughs.

“Leave my cheeks out of this!” Yoongi laughs, his shoulders shuffling as he reacts to his friend.

“Your cheeks are looking pretty cute,” Ho-Seok admits.

“They’re puffy, I ate too much before surgery,” Yoongi shakes his head, a tad embarrassed.

“You’re growing, right?” Hobi offers.

“I’m almost two years older than you, I’m nearly thirty. I am not still growing,” Yoongi corrects him.

“If Jiminie can grow a few centimeters, so can you,” Ho-Seok’s inspired, why can’t Yoongi stretch and gain a little height? Jimin did it.

“Not sitting on my ass for three months, anyway, I’m on a diet,” Yoongi reminds him.

“You mentioned it in your VLive,” Ho-Seok nods, “You still on it?” 

“Well apparently I need to be if my cheeks are still puffy,” His smirk is apparent as he watches Hobi react.

“You’re cute as is,” The maknae says.

“When will I stop being cute?” The hyung wonders aloud.

“You’d rather I call you sexy?” Ho-Seok looks surprised, eying Yoongi through the screen. 

“I guess not,” Yoongi says, he’s rarely uncomfortable around the members, but something about discussing his appearance with Ho-Seok was starting to push him in that direction.

“It’s okay to be sexy,” Ho-Seok says in response to Yoongi’s scrunched nose, “I think we’re all sexy at times.”

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Yoongi asks, nose still scrunched.

“Da Won’s coming home, we’ll have dinner I’m sure,” Ho-Seok shrugs. “Then back to for the Big Hit performance,”

“I wish I could be there,” Yoongi sighs.

“We all wish you could be there,” Hobi tells him.

“I hate missing performances,” Yoongi tries not to let his frustration get the best of him.

“They’re not that great,” Ho-Seok tries to soften the obvious pain in Yoongi’s voice.

“Don’t lie,” Yoongi is becoming annoyed.

“There’s no ARMY, you’re not there, we’ve performed Dynamite a thousand times,”

“But the dance break! Incheon, Seoul World Cup, you have been performing in dream places,” Yoongi lists their recent stages, jealous he’s missed out on such milestones.

“It’s not the same, the energy is different, the drive isn’t there,” Ho-Seok tells him.

“You got a new dance break,” Yoongi smiles.

“Yes, that was fun, but it’s still not the same,” Ho-Seok’s eyes are firm and soft, encouraging Yoongi to take his word. “You’ve missed interviews too.”

“I feel bad for Namjoonie, having to answer everything,”

“We miss your snide comments,” Ho-Seok laughs, “You know BTS? Billboard singer?”

Yoongi loses it, laughing too hard to quickly, moving his shoulders too sharply, his sling aggressively holding it in place. He grunts softly, straightening up, watching Hobi stare, unsure what to do. He continues staring until Yoongi pulls him back to their conversation.

“I will never understand why you came back,” Ho-Seok says, voice low. Yoongi’s surprised by his question, not that he hasn’t asked before, but it’s been years.

“I’m sure I’ve told you before,” Yoongi replies.

“I’m sure you have,” Ho-Seok nods, “Tell me again,”

“I called you, to check in,” He retells.

“After I had texted you,” Hobi fills in.

“Yes, I could tell what mood you were in,” Yoongi nods his head, “Still can.”

“At that point, we hadn’t spent much time together,” Hobi offers as an answer.

“No, barely knew each other, but I could just, tell. So, I called,” Yoongi shakes his head, bangs readjusting and laying back in the same place.

“Was it my voice?” Ho-Seok wonders.

“It was just a feeling, a gut feeling that you weren’t okay,” Yoongi tells him.

“I was, fine,” Hobi fibs.

“Don’t lie to me Hobi-ah,” Yoongi shakes his head again. “I called you, and you said you were alone at the dorms, which weren’t much at that point.”

“I was just sitting there, alone,” Ho-Seok remembers how sad he felt, how alone, how isolated and overwhelmed he was at the dorms.

“Did they, they didn’t want,” Yoongi stares at him, unable to get the words out, unwilling to put the words in Ho-Seok’s mouth. 

“We were in a fight, they didn’t invite me home,” Ho-Seok finishes for him. The shame is gone, it’s not just a statement, a statement about a moment in time that lived in both of their minds, and one they come back to less and less often.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers, eyes low.

“You don’t have to be, it’s passed,” Hobi’s voice is soft, reverent, inviting.

“On my way to the dorms, I figured you’d be hungry, I was hungry, so I got chicken,” Yoongi picks the story back up.

“I will be seventy-five thinking about that chicken,” Hobi laughs.

“It was a good idea!” Yoongi defends himself, more gusto than he’s exerted the whole conversation.

“It was thoughtful, but that’s where it ends,” Ho-Seok is still smiling and laughing at the memory.

“To answer your question,” Yoongi sets his drink down, having finished it. “I came back because you were going to be my brother, and I knew, somewhere inside me, that if I was alone at the dorms, when everything was so overwhelming and scary, that you would’ve done the same for me.”

“When you came back, I knew you were going to be important to me,” Hobi tells him, like he does every year.

“I hope I’ve lived up to it,” Yoongi responds, the look in his eyes telling Ho-Seok that he felt the same thing.

“In spades,” Ho-Seok says. “I love you, Yoongi-ah.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” Yoongi smiles gently at his maknae.

“Happy anniversary,” Ho-Seok tells him.

“Happy anniversary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (one more day... (to the tune of Les Mis))


	26. A Newborn King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shock and awe radiated throughout the small hospital room as the doctor informed you and Taehyung of the most important information of your lives thus far.
> 
> “Your due date is around December 25th, give or take 5 days depending on conception,” Dr. Lee said.

**A Newborn King**

[Inspired by Little Drummer Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pSdDwf9WxA)

Shock and awe radiated throughout the small hospital room as the doctor informed you and Taehyung of the most important information of your lives thus far.

“Your due date is around December 25th, give or take 5 days depending on conception,” Dr. Lee said.

Dr. Lee had been your doctor for over a year now, guiding you through the end of your birth control and helping you prepare your body for pregnancy. She had recommended books, foods to try to boost fertility, and taught you how to track your cycle via apps and through measuring your body temp and keeping notes. She had seen you through until this moment, a few weeks after you discovered you were indeed pregnant, and would see you through until your child would need their own pediatrician. She saw you through as trying to get pregnant became a chore and was no longer fun, through the fears of infertility, through the miscarriage of your first, gone before they’d had a chance, no name, no heartbeat, just, gone. To this baby, your rainbow baby, your miracle as Taehyung called it, and she never wavered in her dedication to supporting you both.

Which, a few months later when you went in for your 20-week ultrasound and she asked if you wanted to know the sex of your baby, she delivered the news delicately and with grace. All you wanted was a healthy baby, regardless of sex, regardless of gender presentation, all you wanted was a healthy baby.

“Mr. & Mrs. Kim, you are having a boy,” Dr. Lee said smiling, teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She gaged your reaction and couldn’t tell who was more excited, you or Tae. Tae was the first to cry, cry was kind, he sobbed. Openly, head finding its way to your neck where he burrowed himself, body shaking, snot unfortunately mixing with your perfume. You held him, knowing the significance of this moment.

All Taehyung wanted was to be a father. Before you’d met, he’d spend some of his downtime imagining his future family, what his wife would look like, who his kids would take after, days spent playing and laughing, love overflowing. Then he met you, and everything fell into place. Before you’d married, you’d discussed when you wanted to have children, how many you wanted, and what it would mean for your careers. You’d settled on some rough numbers, knowing full well your decisions could change. Upon your first anniversary, you revisited the timeline, were you ready now? The answer was no, on both of your parts, and you put off discussing it for two more years, until baby fever hit. Everyone was having kids, or so it seemed. The primal desire to procreate became deafening and you sat at your kitchen table, staring at one another, deciding you were ready. Being ready didn’t prepare you for the eighteen months of trying, the miscarriage, the reality that this maybe wasn’t in the cards for you, the doctors visits, the books read, the articles shared.

But it led you here, to a hospital room, as the hours of Christmas Eve bled into Christmas day, epidural in, dilating slowly, Taehyung frantically calling everyone.

“Tae, please, just text them,” Your voice was calm, after all, you couldn’t feel anything past your hips.

“It’s too important to call!” He says, frantically moving to the next person.

“Who are you calling?”

“I called our parents, yours multiple times,” Taehyung takes his baseball cap off, a gift from your father, and runs a hand through his black locks before putting it back on, bill resting on the back of his head.

“They live in the states, they’re asleep,” You remind him.

"I know, took several tries. Then I called your sister, my siblings, Bang, management, Namjoon, Jimin,”

“You only called Namjoon and Jimin?” You inquire.

“Namjoon will tell everyone else, Jimin’s my-

“Soulmate,” You finish, eyes rolling.

“You’re my soulmate,” Taehyung says, taking your hand in his, twirling your wedding band.

“Then why does Jimin have a song saying the opposite? A song that you’re on?” You tease.

“That was before we met,” He reassures.

“You only get one soulmate, Kim Taehyung,”

“Mine’s you,” He says, finally setting his phone down to stand next to your hospital bed, a kiss placed on your forehead. “We’re going to be parents soon,”

“I feel bad for the kid,” You say.

“Why?”

“A Christmas birthday! That’s terrible!”

“How so?”

“You don’t get double presents on a Christmas birthday, you get the same amount,”

“He can have as many presents as he wants,”

“So, we’re going to spoil him?”

“You know what I mean,” Taehyung smiles, if raising Yeontan taught anyone anything, it was that Taehyung was going to be a firm and loving father. Yeontan was trained well, listened to directions and followed through. You hope Tete would apply the same love and care to your child, though hope is the wrong word. You know he will.

It was another area you had to prepare for, the insecurity of parenthood. Taehyung had broken down numerous times, to you, to his father, asking for any advice, any guidance on how Tae could be such an incredible father, like his was. Books did little to comfort him, nor talking to Namjoon or Seokjin. They’d try to tell him he already had it in him, he could do it, but he didn’t believe it. His existential crisis had bled into every stage of your pregnancy, each month brought new concerns, new fears of unworthiness, wondering what he brought to the table. He was just a boy from Daegu. What could he give?

“I do,” You shift, suddenly uncomfortable as the monitor makes a sound it hasn’t made in your six hours at the hospital. You glance at Taehyung, who noticed the change before glancing at the door as your nurse comes in.

“Let’s check on baby,” She says evenly. You can tell something might be wrong, but she isn’t giving much away. “Well, you are fully dilated, baby seems to be in a bit of distress. I am going to get Dr. Lee and she will walk you through what’s to happen next, okay?”

Before you or Taehyung can respond, she’s out the door.

“Is he going to be okay?” Taehyung whispers, eyes brimming with tears.

“Please, don’t cry,” You respond. “I can’t do this if you’re crying,”

“Okay, okay,” He says, turning his back to you. You catch his reflection in the mirror and watch him mutter a few words to himself, trying to pull himself back together.

Dr. Lee walks into your room in a state far less calm than the nurse.

“Mr. & Mrs. Kim, it seems that your son has decided he’s tired of waiting!” She pulls the stool closer to you as the nurse places your legs in the stirrups. “Let’s give him a little check.”

You feel the pressure of her hand between your legs, checking how far dilated you are. She’s standing, gloves coming off as she presses her hands on your belly, trying to determine the position of your son.

“You are ten centimeters,” She says stepping back, “And he is breach, he wasn’t breach when we checked on him earlier, but in the past ten hours, he’s moved. He seems to be in distress, which could be because he has turned himself around, or because he’s wrapped his umbilical cord around himself, either way, we need to deliver now.”

“Do I need a c-section?” You ask, eyes wide, mind racing.

“We’re going to try and deliver him vaginally, but if he is getting worse through the pushing, we will need to take you into surgery,” Dr. Lee moves to speak with the nurse, and Taehyung sheds his sweatshirt.

“Do you want me to sit behind you?” He asks, knowing this is your favorite position from your birthing class.

“Please, can you, can you play the tape from Hypno-Birthing?” You ask. In preparing for labor, you’d dedicated part of your studies to hypno-birthing, a way to manage your breathing and walk your body through the process of labor. It was extremely popular, and as Taehyung crawled behind you, he began walking you through your breathing exercises and mantras.

 _“My body was designed to do this. I am ready to give birth. My body and my baby set the pace. My partner and I are a team_ ,” You repeat as you inhale and exhale, Taehyung behind you, whispering the words in your ear.

 _“Your body was designed to do this. You are ready to give birth. You body and our baby set the pace. We are a team,”_ He repeats over and over as Dr. Lee and her team guide you through changing positions, adjusting the height of your legs, and instructing you when to push.

Taehyung keeps repeating your mantras, keeps encouraging you, keeps breathing with you as you undergo the most transformative moment of your lives.

Taehyung hadn’t grown up wealthy, or well off. He didn’t have lush presents, or dreams of being anything other than what he saw around him. He could be a farmer, he would be a farmer, in the furthest reaches of his mind, a saxophonist. When he accompanied his friend to that audition… He didn’t know what would be possible for him, him, the son of farmers, raised by his grandmother. When he was the last to join BTS, he didn’t come baring gifts of gold, or endless confidence or talent. He came meek and mild, willing to give himself to the group, fully, wholeheartedly, without question. He came untainted with the pressures of the world, wide eyed, boxy smile, he had no gifts to give but himself.

ARMY said that Taehyung was born on the penultimate day of 1995 so that Jiminie wouldn’t be alone, but as he held his son, his first born, his beloved, and as his son molded in his arms, finger wrapped around his, Taehyung knew he was born that day so his son would never be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, book marked, left comments!!! I will, never, do this again!!! Stay tuned... there might be a few New Years ones popping up!


	27. Anticipating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi had been patiently waiting for this day to arrive, New Years Eve.

**Anticipating**

[Inspired by Kiss Me At Midnight by *NSYNC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGZjQF23g44&feature=emb_title)

Yoongi had been patiently waiting for this day to arrive, New Years Eve. Time for him to shred the year, to toss away the energy he didn’t need, and brace himself for what 2021 would bring. Rehab, lots and lots of it, more dedication to his healing, and hopefully, if he played his cards right, he’d be performing by summer. He would no longer need the brace, he could wear something other than sweats, which he was beginning to hate, and properly spend his days working and with his brothers. The only benefit to massive surgery was that he had endless time to record lyrics and ideas on his phone. Not being able to use his left hand made doing anything more than that impossible, but it was something. He had even spent time, _reading_. A habit Namjoon and Ho-Seok had gotten into, but not one he indulged often. That is, until he was bedridden in his childhood home.

His only saving grace was you. You and the starlight in your eyes. You with the gentle slope of your nose, your ears adorned with a duplicate copy of his favorite silver hoops. You who had been with him as they wheeled him into surgery, and you who sat waiting for when he woke up.

As the year was drawing to a close, Yoongi was moving back to Seoul, saying goodbye to Daegu and his family for a few weeks. A few blissful weeks of hanging out with his brothers, going to therapy, and spending every other moment with you, his beloved, his girl Friday. Before surgery, he time he had off was rarely spent together, making this feel like the first time all over again. In fact, this was the first New Year’s you were going to spend together, Yoongi’s inability to perform a welcome change of pace from the often hectic and overwhelming performance schedule.

On his last day in Daegu, his belongings packed, his phone had rung. 

“Jagi,” He said, voice soft.

“Yoongi-ah, how are you?” You asked, tone mimicking his.

“I’m getting ready to head out, actually,”

“Oh, where are you going?” You inquired.

“To see you,” Yoongi didn’t miss a beat, “Am I that forgettable?”

“No, I was just wondering if maybe you’d want some company?” You asked, slowly opening the door to his room. Yoongi’s off his ass instantly, arm wrapping around your waist, wincing silently as he pulls you too him. “Yoongi-ah, your shoulder.”

“It’s fine,” He said into your hair.

“You had surgery a month ago, you’re not fine,” You scolded, unwilling to move from his grasp.

“You’re here, why are you here?” He asked, head pulling back to look at your starry eyes.

“I didn’t want you to ride back alone,” You said innocently.

“It’s only two hours,” He responded, eyes reflecting your light.

“I know, but it’s two more hours that we get to spend together,” You leaned up gently, rising onto your tiptoes to kiss him softly. “I’ve missed you too much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Yoongi said against your lips.

“We should go, the car is waiting,” You said pulling away from him. You glanced around the sparse room before locating a bag. “Does this go?”

“Yes,” Yoongi said, using his dominant hand to reach for it.

“No,” You said. “I’ll get the bags.”

“Can’t the driver come and grab them?” Yoongi offered.

“Probably, but I’m here now,” You said stubbornly.

“They’re heavy, that one’s all equipment.” Yoongi pointed at his bags, lying in wait for someone to pick them up.

“I can handle it,” You snipped, eyes boring into him.

“Jagi, just let them come and get it,” His voice was soft, eyes telling you to _stop trying to prove yourself._ This wasn’t a competition, a battle to see who is stronger. Clearly, it’s you, both shoulders able to carry his bags, no injury prohibiting you from any type of movement, no brace tethering your appendages to you.

“It’s fine,” You said, hoisting the bag on your shoulder, unwilling to admit you underestimated how heavy it was. “What the fuck is in here? Bricks?”

“I told you,” Yoongi laughed as you struggled past him and down the stairs. Following behind you, you scuttled into the car and said goodbye to his parents.

That was days ago, and sitting on his couch, food spread out on the coffee table, bubbles still bubbling, Big Hit New Years Eve Live! on the TV screen, Yoongi is laughing at you.

“It’s not funny! I was so embarrassed!” You are relaying the time you fell in school, uniform skirt over your head, your crush laughing and pointing.

“He’s an asshole for laughing at you,” Yoongi says through gasps.

“Then you are too, laughing at me!” You playfully hit his leg, eyes rolling at the hypocrisy.

“Oh, aein, if I had tripped and fallen in front of you, wouldn’t you have laughed?”

“That isn’t the point,”

“I think it is,”

“He didn’t turn out to be an asshole, FYI. He went to a great high school, ran track in college and now works for climate and ecological justice,” You inform Yoongi, smirk on your lips.

“But is he a Billboard singer?” He counters, smirk matching yours.

“You are not funny,” You chide as you indeed laugh.

“I’m hilarious, now come here,” Yoongi extends his right arm, creating space against his body for you to curl into. You glance up at him, all pale skin and dark almond eyes, pitch black hair harsh against his porcelain complexion. He glances down at you before lowering his lips to yours, moving slowly. The heat and passion he’s able to convey from a quintessential gesture always renders you breathless, the butterflies in your stomach swarming to overpower you, the desire for him in any way taking over.

You pull away first, cheeks flushed, body uncomfortable with the growing arousal from his touch. It’s been too long since you’ve been intimate in any capacity, no kissing, no hand holding, no sex, nothing. The look in Yoongi’s eyes reflects your own tenfold.

“The doctor said it’s okay,” Yoongi says, reading your mind.

“What?” You ask, caught off guard by the statement.

“I asked at my last appointment, we have to do some form of the lotus-

The moan that interrupts the end of his sentence is completely involuntary, and you’re clasping a hand over your mouth the minute it comes out.

“I knew my baby would like that,” Yoongi replies, lips moving to take yours again.

“Yoongi-ah, stop, stop,” You pull away and move your body slightly out of his grasp.

“What’s wrong?”

“The doctor and the physical therapist said it’s okay, or you’re just trying to fuck me so you’re saying anything to get me naked?” You ask.

“The doctor and the physical therapist said I could engage in gentle, loving, sex” Yoongi’s trying not to blush at the topic.

“Okay, I’m going to trust you and not look it up,” You say.

“So glad you trust me,” Yoongi winks.

“Couch or bed?” You ask.

“Bed,” Yoongi replies. You sit thinking, eyes glazing over as you go through all the logistics of exactly what you could do to him without risking any pain or further damage to his healing body. “Aein, talk to me.”

“I don’t want to miss BTS performing,” You say, knowing full well you have a few hours until they take the stage. Your eyes refocus on Yoongi’s gentle features, contrasted with his pitch-black locks. “I miss your lighter hair,”

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” He asks.

“I’m thinking about what I can do to you, without inflicting further pain or damage to your shoulder,” You inform him.

“I’ll be okay,” Yoongi reassures.

“I still don’t want to miss BTS,” You repeat.

“I’ve never been kissed at midnight,” Yoongi offers, “Never been fucked at midnight either.”

“Me either,” You respond, knowing exactly what he’s suggesting.

“Midnight?” He raises his eyebrows, barely visible under his bangs.

“You think you can wait that long?” You ask.

“I’m not worried about me,” Yoongi says winking. “But you should prepare yourself, I might be injured, but I’m not sure you realize what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Yoongi-ah, are you trying to threaten me?”

“I’m just letting you know that you should prepare yourself to get dicked down,” Yoongi’s smirk is still on his lips.

“Bring it on, Suga, bring it on.”


	28. Glitter on the Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung wakes slowly, the sun streaming in from a crack in the blinds. His mind is hazy with memories of last night, dancing, glitter, sequins, base rattling the chandelier, Ho-Seok’s dance break, eating pizza in the living room at 2AM and, you.

**Glitter on the Floor**

[Inspired by New Year's Day by T. Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEHCXl4J9Qo&feature=emb_title)

Taehyung wakes slowly, the sun streaming in from a crack in the blinds. His mind is hazy with memories of last night, dancing, glitter, sequins, base rattling the chandelier, Ho-Seok’s dance break, eating pizza in the living room at 2AM and, you. Rolling over, he finds you tucked under the blankets, hair a halo on your pillow, skin illuminated by the beams of light. He’d give anything to wake up like this every day, the city restless outside the confines of his home, glitter seeping into every crack and crevice of the apartment, you beside him.

You’d agreed to host the New Year’s bash simply based on the look Ho-Seok had given you when it came up. Any chance to wear neon eyeliner and encrust your eyelids with rhinestones was an opportunity you would be foolish not to take. You’d meticulously planned the evening, from the theme to the food, Taehyung offering creative direction and steering the ship with you, taking turns as you cruised. It had been everything you’d ever wanted in a party, all your favorite people, the best food, Jimin and Jungkook setting the music for the night with a brilliant mix of pop, American, European and Korean, mixed with R&B and full of energy. The polaroid cameras they’d been gifted were out and about, extra film in one central location, which inevitably led to photos people forgot or didn’t like scattered on the hardwood. You didn’t care, it was going to go down as the most spectacular New Years party ever had, which finished nicely with an outstanding fireworks display and the love of your life’s lips on yours at midnight. Though, Taehyung didn’t know he was the love of your life, and in your haste to celebrate a new year with your friends, you hadn’t taken the time to tell him like you had planned. Instead, you bit back your words, kissed him wildly, and retreated to the dance floor.

As you roll over, eyes opening to the morning light, your chocolate eyes land on his, already awake, already staring.

“Morning,” He says, hand reaching out to cup your cheek, thumb moving gently against your bottom lip.

“Morning,” You reply, eyes still covered in sleep, body too tired to react to his gentle touch.

“Did you sleep good?” He asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Mm, am I not still asleep?” You wonder, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Depends what your dreams were about,” Taehyung says, arm reaching for your hips, pulling your body closer to his.

“I don’t remember,” You say, “I was reliving flashes of last night.”

“Which parts?” He inquires, breath hot on your face as he places kisses on your forehead, lips dragging to your cheeks, across to your nose.

“The best parts,” You say, eyes fluttering closed to encourage your senses to focus on his touch.

“Which were?” His lips whisper against your ear, teeth tugging your bare earlobe gently. It wasn’t often that your ears weren’t adorned, and he relished the ability to take your sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“You,” You whisper, hips already becoming unruly under his touch. “Tae,” You moan gently, hands moving up his chest, tweaking his nipples between your fingers.

“Y/N,” He moans against your neck, lips pressing gently on your flesh, teeth ready and willing to nip at the exposed skin.

Your hands snake around his neck, fingers tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, gently pulling his head up.

“Tae, look at me,” You whine. Taehyung pulls up, tongue absentmindedly jutting between his lips.

“What is it?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

“I wanted to tell you something last night but I didn’t get the chance,” You scoot your body so it’s flush against his, his bare chest radiating heat through your modal pajama shirt.

“What is it aein?” He whispers, eyes struggling to stay focused on yours when your lips are pouting so perfectly.

“I love you,” You say.

“I love you too,” He responds, still confused why this statement is requiring so much levity.

“I wanted to tell you that, I think, no, I know that you, Kim Taehyung, are the love of my life and I just, I felt like I wanted,” You blink quickly, hoping the tears forming wouldn’t fall, “I needed to tell you.” Your words become weightless as they leave your lips, floating between you before Taehyung breathes them in.

“I’m the love of your life?” He asks, eyes both wide in shock and knitted in confusion.

“Yes, and I know that I might not be yours,” Your words are becoming more rushed as you try to fill the silence.

“Aein,” He says, eyebrows relaxing. “You’re the love of my life, too.”

It’s then that your tears begin to fall, delicate beings just waiting to rain down your cheeks. Taehyung is crying too, this profession of love, of dedication, far greater than any you’d ever shared before.

Taehyung is quick to place his lips on yours, but you’re quicker, pushing his shoulders back, straddling his hips only to grind yours against him, lips surging with his. His large hands, warm and tender, slide gently from the top of your knees up your thighs, resting softly against your hips, thumbs dipping below the band of your underwear.

You stay on top of him, both sets of hips rocking into each others until the tension is too great, you’re too turned on and his arousal, aggressively pressing into you is driving you both insane. The lewd sounds escaping both of your lips can’t be masked as his hands move under your pajama top, cupping your breasts, gently kneading them. Your focus on his lips is breaking as you start to circle your hips against him, causing Taehyung to arch his back, head turning to the side to moan your name into the open air.

“Jagiya, I need you to st-stop,”

“Why?” You ask, voice muffled by your teeth against the column of his throat.

“I’m too close, I want to last,” His words are strained as you continue to bruise his flesh, pulling away to pull your top overhead, too hot and sticky to keep the garment on.

“Y/N, damn it,” Taehyung mutters before he’s flipping you over and swiftly pulling the remainder of his clothing off. Your eyes are wide at the sight of him, fully nude and wanting, the tip of his cock red and ready to burst his load. He stares at you, breasts heavy, begging him to sink his teeth around your nipples. “I can’t believe I get to spend my life with you.”

“Yeah?” Is all your able to get out before he’s greedily climbing over you, your legs spreading wide to accommodate him. The look in your eyes tells him where you want him, and his lips and fingers are greedy in their devouring of your cunt. He’s generous and forgiving, skillful and still learning, never tiring of trying new techniques or sticking with his tried-and-true methods of getting you to your edge and then some.

No matter how many times you’re intimate, regardless of the minutes or hours he’s accumulated between your legs, his curiosity and blatant skill always surprises you. He knows your body, by your breath, by the knit on your brow, by the way your thighs quiver, he knows you.

Which is why when he stops his movements, tongue retreating to his mouth, fingers pulling out of you abruptly, you’re confused and wanting.

“Tae,” You question.

He doesn’t say anything as he grabs a pillow from the floor, hand tapping your hips, which you raise so that he can place it underneath you. He repositions himself between your open legs and pushes himself in, bottoming out within seconds. Your surprise at his change in demeanor, from doting lover to dominant tempter, is overwhelming and so fucking sexy. His movements are all over the place, languid and sensual, then quick and charging. The change in pressure is disorienting as your body gives into the unsteady rhythm, your ability to control any aspect of yourself completely gone.

All that exists is your moans, loud and frequent, only being swallowed when Taehyung places his lips over yours, messily meeting you where you’re at, tongue and teeth engaging as he feels you tighten around him. He moves one of his hands, which has been propping him up, to find your throbbing clit. It doesn’t take him more than a few quick circles to send you absolutely over the edge, the edging of the morning racking through you. Taehyung comes undone within you; his inhibitions gone as he empties himself fully.

He rests his chest against yours, head in the crook of your neck, as both of you gasp for air. As his heartbeat slows, he rolls over, grateful for the extra space to breathe.

“Water?” He asks. You nod before standing and slipping your pajama top back on, feet guiding you to the bathroom, then to the kitchen where you fill two glasses. As you pad back to the bedroom, glitter and dried candle wax sticking to your feet, you pick up a stray polaroid, a photo a drunken Jungkook had taken of you and Tae, kissing at midnight.

“We should frame this,” You say, handing Tae the photo and glass of water.

“When you move in,” Taehyung says, his thoughts from waking returning to him.

“Absolutely,” You respond. “You and me,” you add placing a kiss on his lips. 

“Forevermore,” Taehyung smiles.


	29. Too Early in the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Namjoon is avoiding asking you a simple question.

**Too Early in the Game**

[Inspired by What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFdfzNMV52Q)

Namjoon twirled his phone in his hand, unsure what his move should be. He knows the obvious answer, but in his mind the obvious answer isn’t obvious. It’s layered with subtext and context, decisions and moves he’s not sure he’s ready to make. Which seems ridiculous, you’d been in his arms after your dinner date, you’d texted him throughout his MMA and MAMA performances… and yet, Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to just fucking talk to you. 

“Just call her,” Yoongi says, eyes staying locked on his computer screen.

“I don’t know what to say,” Namjoon replies, setting his phone on the table.

“I hope that goes away by the time you’re in the booth,” Yoongi mutters, separating their vocals into individual lines.

“Text her and ask,” Ho-Seok suggests, sitting down on the couch next to him, notebook bookmarked with his index finger. 

“She has a million offers, she won’t accept mine,” Namjoon tells them, attempting to find any way out of this.

“Oh, she does? Then wouldn’t she have made it clear she wasn’t interested the last time you saw her? Or was she too busy making out with you to decline?” Yoongi asks. He pushes the bill of his hat further up his forehead before adjusting his posture.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shakes his head again.

“You’ve been dating for a few weeks, it’ll be fine,” Ho-Seok reminds him.

“But, what if she-

“Just call her! You’re hypothesizing based on nothing. She’s clearly into you, you’ve gone on many dates, just fucking ask her,” Yoongi snaps, eyes moving from Namjoon’s back to his computer where he had been busying himself with trying to amplify his vocal line while simultaneously not diminishing Namjoon’s under him, while creating a fade of Ho-Seok’s in and out at the appropriate syllables.

“I just,” Namjoon sighs.

“She already likes you,” Ho-Seok reminds him, eyes drifting from the notebook he’s been jotting lyrics in to Namjoon. “She wants to be more than friends, what are you so afraid of?”

Joon does’t have an answer, because he’s not really sure what he’s afraid of. It’s not that you’ll say no, and turn him down completely, but maybe it’s that you’ll say yes, and this thing between you will become something real and solid, something he’ll have to make time for, will want to make time for… Someone other than his six brothers to fill his time. It’s all he wants, but it’s uncharted territory for him, and he’s truly terrified.

“I’ll be right back,” Namjoon decides as he turns towards the door and walks out of Yoongi’s studio. He loves being in Yoongi’s studio, it’s stripped back, simple, modern, so very Yoongi. Namjoon’s is cluttered, plants, photos, ARMY memorabilia sprawled around the room. It’s refreshing getting out of his space and spending time elsewhere, even if it’s only a few meters away. But now, in search of a quiet place, Namjoon is typing his code into his studio door and walking in, lights automatically turning on.

He finds your contact in his phone easily, like he hasn’t spent copious amounts of time staring at it, and presses CALL. It rings once. Then twice. On the third time, as his confidence is immediately shattered by your voice.

“Hey Joonie B Jones,” You say laughing, a lighthearted trill that sparks a flame in him.

“Hi Y/N,” He says, voice soft in your ear.

“What are you up to? I thought you were going to be in the studio all day?” You ask, reaching for your TV remote to turn the volume down, your favorite Christmas movie playing in the background.

“What are you watching?” He asks, trying to ascertain the film from the snippet.

“While You Were Sleeping,” You tell him.

“You’ve mentioned that one before,”

“It’s my favorite,” You inform him.

“Mm, we should watch it together,” He offers.

“A movie date?” You ask.

“Yeah, something like that,” He exhales, this didn’t have to be so complicated.

“It’s a date,” You respond.

Namjoon swears to Yoongi and Ho-Seok that he’ll ask you that night, during your movie night, that he’ll muster up the courage. And he will. He swears.

But in the three hours he’s been at your place, arm draped loosely around your shoulders as you watch your favorite Christmas film, Namjoon continues to be nagged by the feeling that he’s going to let the entire night pass without asking.

“This is one of my favorite parts,” You say, pulling him out of his reverie. “Pay attention!”

Namjoon’s eyes refocus on the screen as Bill Pullman begins his [epic monologue on the difference between hugging and leaning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ5JPa1TVgQ). Namjoon’s trying to focus, but out of the corner of his eye he sees you, lips moving as you say the words in time with Bill, eyes wide, body leaning out of his grasp to get as close to the screen as possible.

“Isn’t it so romantic?” You ask, eyes turning to him. He smiles, dimples and all.

“Yes, it is,” He responds before he’s leaning towards you, hand cupping your cheek, lips gently hovering over yours. “It’s about wanting, and receiving,”

You nod your head, eyes closed in anticipation, willing to receive him in any way. It’s excruciating, waiting, though its no more than three seconds, you’re already feeling needy and far more turned on than seems necessary for such a small gesture. Nevertheless, you’re hungrily reaching for him, closing the space between you. It’s his hands in your hair and his teeth tugging your bottom lip that begins to unravel you.

Admittedly, you can’t get enough of him, of his mind, of his hands, of his thoughtfulness, of those mother fucking dimples. You’re constantly hoping for any form of contact from him, a text, a call, a date, anything that allows you time in his presence, a gift he can’t always give. If you were honest with yourself, you’d tell yourself to get a damn grip. You’d remind yourself that you were falling down a slippery slope… and by falling you really meant alpine skiing down it, no sign of stopping. All you wanted was more. More of this, more of his hands, more of his time, more than a casual date here and there.

Pulling away from him, you blush, swollen bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes try to read Joon’s expression.

“April, May, Joon, what are you thinking about?” You ask, your playful names eliciting a toothy grin from him.

“I know that this is, maybe too early in the game, but I just thought I’d ask you, um,” Namjoon shakes his head, lust has filled it and he’s trying to get a hold of himself.

“Joon-Bug, just ask,” You say, hoping he can’t hear your heartbeat increasing rapidly, nerves over what he’s going to say beginning to flood your mind. Does he want to stop seeing you? Does he want you to be his girlfriend? Does he want to fuck you over the end credits to your favorite movie? Are you moving to fast? Though how could he constitute the handful of dates you’ve been on after years of friendship moving too fast? Couldn’t he just fucking _say it_?

“Hey, come back,” He whispers, eyes gleaning the stress in yours.

“Sorry, you just, you’ve got me worried,” You say, eyes cast down on your hands, which are still tight in his.

“Nothing to be worried about,” He says, hand leaving yours to nudge your chin up, eyes level with his. If you’re not mistaking, he’s still leaning ever so slightly over you.

Namjoon exhales, locking himself into this decision and speaks, “I was just going to ask, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?”


	30. Till the Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Ho-Seok wants is to dance with you.

All Ho-Seok wants is to dance with you as the ball drops, pull you to him and kiss you, in plain daylight, in defiance of… well not god but everyone else. The problem? He can’t find you in the crowd at Big Hit, that is until he turns down a hallway and finds you tucked away in a side room, floor to ceiling windows giving you the perfect view of the imminent fireworks.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Ho-Seok states, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Didn’t Jimin tell you?” You ask, not turning from the windows.

“No, I haven’t seen Jimin,” Ho-Seok is confused, Jiminie would’ve told him.

“I told him to tell you that my phone died, and I would be waiting here,” You say, eyes still gazing at the sky, exhaustion starting to overcome your body.

“Why did you tell Jimin?” He asks moving through the room to stand next to you.

“I had faith in him,” You shrug your shoulders, which Hobi lazily drapes his arm across. You turn your head to meet his gaze and smile softly.

“You were so good,” You compliment, “You’re always stunning, and tonight was just insane.”

“I knew you were watching,” He blushes.

“I didn’t think you could level up any further, but holy shit. Black Swan? My god, take Natalie Portman’s stunt double’s Oscar!” The words roll off your tongue in quick succession, complimented by your eyes going wide and your mouth hanging open.

Ho-Seok laughs as you compliment him, your rambling journey a sign that you’re flustered by the words coming out of your mouth and by the references you’re not sure he’ll get, and the fact that this living breathing god is standing in front of you, holding you, wanting you.

“You doing okay?” He asks as he pulls you closer.

“You’re just, so _dazzling_ , it’s hard to you know, think straight sometimes,” You say, glancing down at his lips before back at his walnut orbs.

“Ah! Hobi-ah, I’ve been looking for you!” Jimin exclaims barging into the room. “You found her?”

“Yes,” Ho-Seok says, eyes moving away from yours to glance at Jimin.

“Great, great, next time turn your phone on vibrate,” Jimin says, winking at you both as he exits the room.

Ho-Seok turns back to you, resuming his longing gaze and glancing at your lips.

“Hobi-ah, we’re watching the fireworks together,” Namjoon says sticking his head into the room. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi Joonie,” You say, your annoyed expression hidden in the darkness of the room.

“I see you are occupied, there’s a party after the fireworks, don’t forget,” Namjoon winks before disappearing.

“I should’ve locked the door,” Ho-Seok says laughing.

“Should we go watch the fireworks with them?” You offer, eyes encouraging him to read between the lines.

“I’d rather stay here,” He says, tightening his grip around your waist.

“Me too,” You say as the distant chant of 10-9-8-7 begins down the hall, where the line up from Big Hit’s New Year’s Eve Live! Show is gathered, lights dimmed low, speakers blasting while the hottest DJ in Seoul spins, cater waiters in all white traipsing through the crowed with crudites and hors d’oeuvres, champagne flowing freely.

When Hobi had asked you to the performance, you were unsure if you felt comfortable spending the evening around Idols, in tight designer clothes, beauty rivaling the Greek Gods, talent abounding… You hadn’t been able to go to any performance in the last two months, and all Ho-Seok wanted was to dance, with you, and of course to kiss you at midnight. Which is how you ended up in this weird conference room off the main hallway of the Big Hit offices, where the party was being held, tightly wrapped in Hobi’s arms, eyes holding yours as you hear the other Idols scream “Happy New Year”. It’s all the notice Ho-Seok needs before he’s crashing his lips onto yours, moving hastily to feel every inch of you against him. He’s hungry and wanting, the extra adrenaline from his performance mixing with the excitement of a new year, and the prospect of spending more time with you. The fact that _BE_ was a huge success doesn’t hurt, either, particularly as his hands move to grip the globe of your ass, cementing you to him.

“Ho-Seok,” You mutter breathlessly. “The fireworks.”

“They’re right here,” He says, forehead resting against yours.

“That was so smooth, my god,” You laugh, impressed with his quick wit. “But look.”

Together you look out the window.

“Wow!” Ho-Seok keeps saying as each firework bursts to life, vibrant colors lighting up the dark sky.

“Whoa,” You counter, eyes unwavering as you soak in the screaming colors in front of you.

As the show comes to a close and the music from the party begins to swell, Ho-Seok’s lips find their way to your ear.

“You wanna dance?” He whispers.

“I thought you’d never ask,” You smile, the remaining smoke from the fireworks casting a balm over the moon.

Your hand in his, Ho-Seok guides you from the conference room towards the party, where he’s immediately greeted by friends and coworkers. They nod kindly at you, too drunk on the party and free booze to ask questions. Those will come later, when they catch you in the background of a photo, or see something on Hobi’s private Instagram. Tonight, with the music bumping, bass rattling, a disco ball bounces around colored lights, illuminating the faces of many people you recognize, rendering them more beautiful than before. It seems impossible, how could features carved from granite be more dazzling under disco lights, and yet, looking at Ho-Seok, green and blue streaking across his face, you’re awe struck. 

It takes you a few minutes to get acclimated to the noise and the sweaty bodies, all internally battling to be named best dancer in their group chats and conversations. A few TXT members want to challenge Ho-Seok to a dance off, and it takes everything in him to turn them down. You spot the other members of BTS, who are busy chatting and eating, relieved to be done with performances for a while. They smile at you and laugh as Ho-Seok busily twirls you out and in, bringing you close enough to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

He pulls away first, the music calling him as he starts to pop and lock, bringing in hip hop moves you’ve only ever seen him pull off successfully. It’s then that Jimin joins, attempting to match Hobi lock for lock. You’re laughing until a hand reaches for you, pulling you out of the crowd and against them.

“You need water,” Yoongi says, using his free hand to pass you a sealed water bottle, which you greedily take.

“Thank you,” You say tossing it back, the cool liquid quenching the thirst you hadn’t realized you had.

“He’s hard to keep up with,” Yoongi’s eyes are watching Ho-Seok, who is still battling it out with Jimin, Jungkook watching on the side, trying to find the moment to join the dance-off.

“Oh, I know,” You respond, smiling at Yoongi.

“Add Jiminie and Kookie and you’re done for,” Yoongi laughs, tossing a crudité into his mouth.

“I’d never try to keep up with them,” You inform him, hand reaching for your own small bite off the tray of a passing waiter.

“You’re giving him a run for his money, too,” Yoongi nods at you, a small smirk replacing his gummy smile.

“I am?” You ask, unsure what he’s implying.

“Hobi loves, harder than anyone, well, except Taehyung, and you’ve got him. I’ve never met anyone that feels as deeply as Hobi,” Yoongi tells you, eyes watching as Jungkook finds his moment to enter the battle.

“What about Taehyung?” Your attempt at lightening the mood going unnoticed.

“Tete is on his own celestial plane,” Yoongi shakes his head, his pushed back locks tussling softly before falling gently. 

“But Hobi?” You ask, returning to your boyfriend.

“I didn’t know if anyone could love Hobi like he could love them,” Yoongi looks at you, sincerity in his eyes, “until you.” 

The blush on your cheeks is hard to see over the dimmed and strobing lights, which is grateful because internally you are absolutely panicking. As if sensing your bit of distress, or rather tiring of dancing with the men he dances with every day, Hoseok comes to your aid, water in his hand.

“Speak of the devil,” Yoongi chuckles.

“Or angel,” You counter as Hobi pulls you into him, arm around your waist while his other holds the water bottle, angled to give his body the most hydration.

“I missed you,” Ho-Seok says, kissing your cheek, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead onto yours.

“You’re so sweaty,” You lightly push him off, reaching for a napkin to pat dry his stunning features.

“Yeah, care to join me?” He wiggles his eyebrows and pulls you towards the dance floor, where he plans to spend the rest of the party, dancing with you until the morning light.


	31. Your Midnights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every day starts with you, and Jimin's the luckiest man in the universe that it ends with you too.

Jimin cracks his back, followed by his neck and finally his fingers before he pulls back the duvet and crawls into bed. Resting his back against the headboard, he looks at you. Your hair is falling haphazardly around your face, and he’s quick to move a strand out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, eyes still staring at your phone, where you’re in the middle of reading a New York Times article on the future of American politics, something no doubt, your mother sent to you. Scanning the byline, you’re unsure if it’s going to stress you out or piss you off, so you opt for closing the app and turning ot your husband, who hasn’t stopped watching you since he got into bed.

“Hi,” You whisper, voice stuck in your throat.

“Hi,” Jimin whispers, the warmth in his voice making your heart swell.

“Happy New Year,” You say through your smile.

“It’s not even midnight,” He says, laughing too loudly.

“Shh!” You scold, ears peeling to catch any tiny feet or little cries.

“They’re dead asleep, it’s okay,” Jimin tells you, voice returning to its natural timber.

“If they wake up,” You say, eyes finishing your sentence.

“How can I make it up to you?” Jimin asks, slowly leaning his head towards yours, tongue gently licking his lips.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” You meet Jimin halfway, lips excitedly meeting his in a hurried kiss. His lips teasingly move against yours, tongue swiping before retreating, teeth grazing without biting, his hands taunting you as they approach the curve of your ass before retreating, moving up and down your thighs without landing anywhere that you want him, need him. He continues his ministrations, taunting you relentlessly until he can feel your hips starting to buck into his hands.

“My baby’s eager,” He says against your lips before moving further down to your neck.

“Jimin,” You moan softly, the change in his focus bringing some of the relief you’re desperately seeking.

“Do you want more?” He whispers, hands slowly pushing your clean pajama top over your head, freeing your chest to the cool air of your bedroom.

“Yes,” You tell him as he takes in your sight.

“You’re gorgeous,” He says as his eyes take in your body.

“Yeah?” You whisper, insecure as his hands find your skin again. He grinds into you, the pressure of his hardened cock eliciting a moan from both of your lips. “You sure that’s not just the prospect of sex?”

“No, it’s all you, it’s always you,” He tells you, eyes earnest.

“Even after babies?” You ask.

“Especially after babies,” Jimin’s smiling at you, the love he feels for you seems to double or triple every day. From the way you smile at him, to the way you care for your children, or the way your ass looks in your favorite leggings, the ones without the holes or toddler cracker dust on them, or how you toss your hair into a ponytail during playtime, or how you always manage to make time for Jimin, no matter how tired, no matter how exhausted or burned out. Every part of him loves every inch of you, more than the day you met, more than the day he realized he loved you, more than your wedding day or when he realized you’re the love of his life, more than when you welcomed your first child.

Every day starts with you, and he’s the luckiest man in the universe that it ends with you too.

Overwhelmed with his adoration of you, Jimin doesn’t waste any more time sliding your underwear off and burrowing himself between your legs, where he does make a show of edging you gently and repeatedly until you swear if you don’t cum you are going to cry, and cry you do as Jimin moves from between your legs to behind you, where he pulls your back flush to his chest. He lifts your leg over his hip, opening you to him, and sinks himself into your cunt, bottoming out as his free hand moves instantly to your clit, the oversensitive numb begging for release. As he begins to thrust, pace aggressive, you’re both so glad you got a new IUD placed as soon after giving birth as you were allowed, a method that hadn’t failed you after your first child and wouldn’t fail after your second.

It doesn’t take long for you to come undone, the edging Jimin had inflicted upon you and your clit would you tighter than you’d realized, making it almost impossible to not yell as you came undone around him. Feeling your walls tense around him, Jimin snapped his hips faster, his moistened fingers moving to pinch and twirl your nipples, his teeth digging into your shoulder.

Your voice could be heard in hushed whispers, encouraging Jimin to fuck you deeper, to go harder, to use this as practice in case you ever wanted another kid (you didn’t). It was all the encouragement he needed to hit his release, his teeth disappearing as his lips sucked your skin, moan echoing into your bones.

It takes a few minutes for you both to regain any sense of composure, and you diligently hobble to the bathroom to pee and grab a damp washcloth, which you use to clean up Jimin.

“Aein, you don’t need to clean me up,” He says, hand on your wrist as you try to move it against his upper thigh. “Please, let me.”

You nod, your mothering instinct hard to suppress. “Okay.”

Jimin smiles at you, pressing a kiss on your cheek before he cleans himself up and rises. Glancing at his watch, he notes that it isn’t quite the new year yet. After tossing you a new pair of underwear, and slipping his own on, he disappears from the bedroom. You rise, staring at your sheets, trying to decide if you wanted to toss them in the wash today or just wait until tomorrow. Too exhausted to care, and noting that no cum means it’s clean enough to sleep on.

Crawling back onto your side of the bed, you pull the blankets around you and glance at the mess of your master. Clothes lingering, both adult and child sizes, a few baby books and a burp rag or two draped over your armchair from late night feeds with your seven month old, a rarity now as they were outgrowing them. You note the sippy cup and two bottles sitting on the bookshelf and side table next to the chair. In childless times, you’d exited your en suite to find Jimin sitting in said green velvet, tying the laces to his dress shoes or adjusting his cuff links. Other times, you’d made out in that chair, on a particular winter evening you’d blown him, how circle of life for it to be your second favorite place to cuddle your child in the light of the moon.

Jimin returns, a tray in his hands. He’s gathered a few Christmas cookies, two flutes of what looks like ginger ale, and refilled your favorite water bottle which you’d left downstairs. He sets it gently on the bed before crawling up next to you.

“It’s almost 00:00,” He says, gentle kiss placed to your temple.

“And you’re gonna be happy,” You sing softly, shoulder nudging him as you grab a flute, engraved with your wedding date. A gift from Taehyung that you adored.

“I’m always happy,” Jimin can’t stop smiling as he clinks his glass against yours.

“Oh really? Even though we’ll be cleaning up bottles together on New Years Day?” You ask, sipping the sparkling liquid which is in fact ginger ale.

“Baby bottles, and sippy cups,” Jimin clarifies.

“How lame, it’s almost a new year and we’re sipping ginger ale, eating Christmas cookies, hoping our children don’t wake up,” You snort nibling on a cookie.

“We did finish that bottle of wine,” Jimin corrects.

“That we opened on Christmas,” You say.

“Fair point,” Jimin nods taking another sip of his ale. “We did just have great sex, and an amazing dinner.”

“Also true,” You nod, eyes taking in his post sex look. His hair is blonde again, your favorite, and in its post sex state, it’s both pushed back and messy. His lips, always pink, are swollen from yours, and his eyes are both blown and tired. Five years of parenthood has permanently clouded them, and there’s something extra there that only comes from making love to you.

“I’m happy cleaning up bottles,” Jimin starts, setting his cookie down, “and sippy cups, and burb rags and dirty diapers, so long as I get to spend the new year cleaning up with you. I’m happy to do anything as long as it’s with you.”

“It’s 00:00,” You tell him. “Happy New Year.”

You lean in softly to place a kiss on Jimin’s lips, this time it’s soft and loving, kind and adoring.

“I’m happy to do anything with you, too,”


	32. Jackpot Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stars are shining extra bright tonight, or at least that’s what Seokjin tells himself as he glances up at the blackened atmosphere.

The stars are shining extra bright tonight, or at least that’s what Seokjin tells himself as he glances up at the blackened atmosphere. The light pollution of LA makes even the brightest stars seem muted, dulling their glisten with the heaviest of fog, the only solution in the world capable enough of such a feat. Jin’s only requirement, his only ask of the universe, was that it didn’t rain. _Please don’t rain, don’t betray me, just don’t rain._ Everything he had planned for the night hinged on LA resorting to its drought era days, dry as hell, no precipitation on any weatherman’s radar.

So far, the climate had stayed true to its deepest intentions.

Jin had arranged for a limo to pick you up and bring you to a secluded restaurant, where you would have a late meal over candlelight, dance under the stars, and where Jin would inevitably ask you the one question he never thought would come from his lips. He dipped from New Year’s Eve rehearsals early, giving himself enough time to shower and change into his suit without seeing you before he, himself made his way to the restaurant. Which is where he stands, eyes trained on the view, his last hail Mary’s offered up to stop any deluge from falling.

“Seokjinie,” You say, stepping through the opened wall and into the night breeze. It’s no longer warm, and you’re grateful for the jacket you tossed over your jumpsuit.

“Aein,” He replies, turning to take you in. Your lace jumpsuit, in deep emerald, is stunning against your skin, your wedge heels supporting you as you walk to him, the additional height making it easier for you to plant a gentle, lipstick covered kiss on his cheek. “You are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” You respond, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “You look like a heartbreaker.”

“A heartbreaker? Me? Never,” Jin is amazed at your compliment, unsure if that’s what it even is. “I look like a heartbreaker?”

“You look handsome, stunning, like you’re worldwide handsome or something,” You tease, eyes moving away from his form and to the view. “This is beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” He agrees. “Come, let’s sit.”

You turn back to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Why are you being so cagey?” You ask, not bothering to look at the preselected menu for the evening.

“I am not,” He says, lips pouting.

“Stop making that face,” You say rolling your eyes.

“What face?”

“That pouty-try-not-to-kiss-me, face,”

“I only have one face, and if you want to kiss it, you just have to say so,” He smirks, eyes still on yours.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” You ask, eyeing his still pouting strawberry red lips.

“Always,” Jin replies, winking as the waiter comes out offering your first wine pairing.

“Wine pairings?” Your surprise is evident as you decide to finally glance at the menu for the evening. “This is very fancy.”

“We didn’t get a chance to celebrate Christmas,” Jin says, shrugging, the ring box in his pocket moving gently against his chest.

“Now we can celebrate New Year’s,” You smile, lips perching themselves on the brim of your wine glass, tipping it back gently to taste the crisp chardonnay. “Am I supposed to swish this for notes?”

“Do you wish to?” Seokjin asks, tipping his own glass back.

“I’d rather enjoy your company,” You remind him, sipping slowly before setting your drink down. “Tell me about New Year’s.”

“What about it?” Seokjin asks, eyeing you, wondering if this is his chance.

“What are you performing? What are you wearing? Who is going to be there?” You tick off your list, the same list you have every time BTS performs at a major show.

“I can’t tell you what we’re performing,” Jin shakes his head, you always ask, and he can never tell you. “We’re doing black and sequins, some sparkles,”

“Black Swan?” You guess, hoping you’re correct.

“I can’t tell you,”

“You always wear all black with sequins for Black Swan,” You press, excitement rising in your voice. You. Fucking. Live. For. Black Swan.

“I didn’t say all black, we’re also wearing some color, loud patterns, like Idol but not as wild,” He corrects himself.

“Hmm, so Boy with Luv adjacent,” You offer. He nods.

“Or something like that,” He’s lying through his teeth, and whether or not you’ve caught on, you don’t seem to mind. “There’s going to be a lot of people there, new people, some we’ve seen before, others new.”

“Are you going to meet them?” You inquire, eyes shifting from his to the view around you.

“Probably,” Jin nods, mind working triple time to lead this conversation exactly where he wants.

“Tell them I say hi, unless you know, it’s the Chainsmokers, then run,” You laugh at your words. “Or ask them if writing Paris was the height of their talent, or if their COVID concert was their own Coachella.”

You’re laughing so hard, Seokjin knows this is his moment.

“Well, I was hoping I could introduce you to whomever, I’m Worldwide Handsome, Jin, and this the future Mrs. Worldwide Handsome,” Jin says, pushing his chair out and lowering himself to one knee, ring box stealthily coming out of his jacket pocket.

“Kim Seokjin,” You say, eyes wide, tears already forming.

“Y/N, I have loved you since you laughed at my joke about octopus,”

“Octo-pie,” You whisper, mind instantly pulling you back to that moment five years ago, when Jin was months away from conscription, and you had been granted access to BTS for an in-depth interview. No one else had laughed, but you couldn’t stop.

“Mm, and you waited, though you didn’t have to, for two years, writing letters that you never knew if I would get, or return. You were there the minute I got out, waiting with my parents. You’ve never missed a birthday, an opening of tour or final show. You’ve watched every award show and texted me through all the performances. You understand when I’m too exhausted to do anything, pushed me when I was being lazy, and helped me create dreams outside of Bangtan,” Jin takes a deep breath, hand moving to wipe the tears that have begun to fall. “You’re my earth, and I’m blissfully orbiting around you, hoping that you’ll keep me in your universe forever,”

“All for you,” You whisper through your own tears.

“Y/N, will you be my light and marry me?” Jin manages to get out, loud and clear, voice rising above the nerves and excitement.

“Yes.”

The phonemes are clear, crisp as the nights air as you nod your head, wordlessly accepting the only offer you ever wanted. It’s seconds before he’s standing, ring, a stunner, slipped on your finger, and soon you’re in his arms, lips together, I love yous abounding. It’s only a few seconds later that the rest of Bangtan is rushing out, all having watched from the restaurant, cameras trained on you. Taehyung and Jungkook take it upon themselves to pose you for photos, ensure you have a few beautiful shots to send to your parents, and in reality, print to hang.

Before long they’re leaving you and Seokjin alone to enjoy your meal, all blissed and loved out.

“Oh, I did have another question,” Jin says, hand reaching to hold yours.

“Oh?” You ask.

“I know it’s a little last minute, or maybe just on time, but the Future Mrs. Kim, will you be my date for New Year’s?”


	33. Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook has one resolution for 2021.

The stage was set, the other K-Pop groups stood in the wings or in their greenrooms, getting ready for their own performance or changing for the final all company number. It felt strange, if Jungkook was honest with himself, it all felt strange all of the time. He missed Yoongi. When he described the feeling to others, they chalked it up as a form of homesickness, something that could be remedied by speaking with Yoongi or texting him. Jungkook, and his brothers, knew that it wasn’t that they missed Yoongi. They ached for him. They had lost part of themselves, a phantom limb, doomed to haunt them all their days. It wasn’t only agony that they felt, a menacing pain lingering in their bones, but it dulled all of their senses. It washed all of their performances in a shade of gauzy grey, walking through fog all eternity. Every interview felt hollow, discussing their album felt meaningless. Leaving a space for Yoongi in their line ups, in their interviews, carrying a cardboard photo of him, was the closest they got to filling that ache.

Yoongi, though housebound, was still cagey, hard to locate, difficult to get in contact with. No one was surprised that even in recovery he’d still send one-character replies, or not reply at all. Jungkook dismissed his nature at first, but as the weight of their performances continued, the exhaustion ripping through his overworked body, he became agitated by Yoongi’s lack of empathy. Yoongi missed his brothers, sure, but he didn’t know the toll his absence and continued lack of communication was taking on the Golden Maknae. Who was Jungkook to tell him to buck up? Communicate more, call more, text more, respond at all. 

His frustration, masked by his drive and charisma on stage, made everyone in BTS stand on edge around him. They too were upset, but they could put that frustration behind them to be pleasant to work with. Jungkook struggled to put it behind him, the dull pain of feeling like Yoongi had forgotten about him. Rationally, he was overreacting, which he knew. Emotionally, he was devastated. This was the first peak at what it would be like when his brothers left for service, leaving him behind in their wake. Yoongi’s surgery had scared the shit out of Jungkook. His brothers were infallible in his mind, but there Yoongi was, being wheeled into a surgery to fix an injury he’d been poorly hiding for years. Yoongi could still communicate with them, the fact that he was choosing not to, that he hadn’t realized the pain he was inflicting, was unacceptable to Jungkook who would do anything to be there for Yoongi.

In true Jungkook fashion, in order to survive and hopefully push aside the fear that was rattling inside of him, he decided he needed to pour his frustration into his final performances, leave it all on the floor of the Big Hit studio stage. Nothing was to come back with him. Nothing that didn’t serve him or his brothers.

Stepping onto the floor, stretched, costume on, Jungkook made a promise to himself. 2020 was a banner year for BTS. They broke record after record, earned numbers 1s, sold millions of albums, and connected to ARMY through Weverse and Twitter and Run episodes. They had been named entertainers of the year on many major platforms, had three successful virtual concerts, became Grammy nominated artists, and were given the whole fucking world.

Jungkook hoped they’d never return to 2020.

2020 brought out the worst in Jungkook, the worst in humanity, the worst in his brothers. He was insecure, confused, lonely, isolated, burned out and overworked. What he gained the most joy from was stripped from him in an indefinite silence. Every performance after March came with solitude. Every step met without applause. There was no group BTS chant at the beginning of their songs, no deafening screams at the MMA’s or MAMA’s, no ARMY bombs littering the nights sky. 2020 had opened the door to hell, and its inhabitants had run wild within Jungkook’s mind.

He was never good enough. Never strong enough, couldn’t sing well enough, couldn’t be the best dancer in the world, couldn’t lift enough weight, he just couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, how diligently he worked, he was always going to fall short and be less than. Always.

The charts would come and go, and particularly with ARMY who loved hitting number 1 but had no staying power, no longevity. The Grammy’s had nominated them for an English song they didn’t write or produce, and only nominated them because of their place within the world. The only bone the Recording Academy had thrown was nominating them in a Vocal category, ensuring the seven men would be awarded and not Bang or Pdogg. Still, they knew their place in American music, regardless of their work within the world, in America they checked a box. It ate Namjoon alive, and being his biggest supporter, was absorbed into Jungkook’s skin.

Which is how, at the end of the worst year, Jungkook’s leaving it all on the floor. All the anger. All the pain. All the loneliness and stress. The inadequacy, the hate, the feeling less than everyone, the judgement, the deafening sadness. Instead, in every step, every note, Jungkook made a promise to himself. A promise to trust himself, to love himself as he is, to respect his body when it told him to back down, to work on being giving to others, to maintaining his mental health, to finishing his mixtape. In every crisp, soaring note, Jungkook was vowing to be better. Like a resolution spoken as the clock strikes 00:00, his movements and voice radiating across the globe, he willed his promise into existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thank you to everyone who has read, bookmarked, commented etc! I will in fact, never do this again. 88 pages.)  
> (make sure you bookmark other stories {peace, illicit affairs, exile, the 1} to be notified when I post new chapters)  
> (sorry if this sucks. I'm so tired. 88 pages, less than 30 days)  
> (let me know if you'd be interested in something similar for valentines day)


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